


Long Term

by jelasdax



Category: Fast & Furious (2009), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelasdax/pseuds/jelasdax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a phone call in Panama City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Term

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short little what-if scenario that took root in my brain and wouldn't give me peace until it was written down. Enjoy!
> 
> Feedback is very welcome :)

It starts with a phone call in Panama City. 

Mia says, "Dom," and then trails off. He's got his mouth open to say she shouldn't be calling him when she starts up again. "The FBI came to see me today." 

It’s like the world has stopped spinning. 

"They want to make a deal. Dom, something happened with Brian O'Conner. They want you up here to help. They're willing to clear your record."

There's another pause, and then, "Dom?"

"Yeah, Mia. I'm here." He has to clear his throat before he can continue. "You think it's legit?"

Dom hears her sigh through the connection. "I think you need to come up here and hear them out."

— 

Within a week he's in a room with two feds, and Dom is having a hard time not laughing in their faces. They're spinning him some story about drug lords and undercover assignments and possible fucking amnesia, of all things, with Special Agent Brian O'Conner in the middle of everything.

The only reason he doesn't laugh is because he’s got signed paperwork for a two week clean record with the guarantee of a permanent clean record - provided he signs on to this insanity, that is. 

The fact that they came to him with this deal says a lot about their levels of insanity. Enough about his own, too. 

Everything else you could have said about Spilner ( _O'Conner_ ) - and Dom had said and thought a lot over the years - no one could deny he had a particular kind of crazy to him. Then again, Dom had never been sure who exactly Spilner was, aside from engineered to get Dom’s trust. Hindsight had made it all too clear how perfect he’d been; too perfect. Was O'Conner as reckless, as fearless, as Spilner had been? Had that been a lie too? Dom had never been able to answer that question.

And now these feds were telling him that O'Conner had supposedly died six months ago… but that in recent months he’d been spotted running for the mark, some guy named Braga. 

The fed who’d introduced himself as Bilkins had seemed darkly amused by the whole thing as he spun the tale. “When we first heard the news that he’d resurfaced, I thought he’d gone native again. But when we realized you weren’t anywhere near him, and neither was Roman Pearce,” Bilkins paused for a second as though waiting for something. Dom kept his face impassive. Bilkins continued, softer, “I got a little concerned. We looked into it further.”

The other fed, Penning, takes over. “What we know is that six months ago O'Conner went to the established meet and then dropped off the grid. 12 hours later we recovered his exploded car and bodily remains, as well as evidence that O'Conner’s gun had shot someone.” Penning grimaced. “We held a discreet service. But in the few last months we’ve seen signs that Brian is very much alive. He isn’t responding to our attempts to communicate with him, and it looks like he’s working for Braga now.”

They look expectantly at him. Dom keeps his silence and Bilkins breaks first.

“We want you to go after him. Find out what happened. Pull him out if necessary.”

Enough bullshit. “Why come to me.” There had to be a reason they’d pulled a cop’s former mark in to get said cop out of a mess.

Penning stares at him for a good thirty seconds before answering. “We’ve sent three agents in to Braga’s operation in the last six months. They all came back empty-handed and unharmed.” There’s a pause. “Given your history, we think you might have better luck.”

Bilkins again, faintly sardonic. “And you’re highly motivated. There’s a full pardon on offer if you bring him in and he takes Braga down. Best to take it.”

Dom takes it.

—

Dom’s not surprised to find there’s an audition for a spot on Braga’s team three days later. The surprise comes later when O'Conner stages up as one of the racers. 

He’s different. 

His hair is shorter, darker, but it’s more than that. This man isn’t the same cocky shit that Dom met years ago. 

His eyes are different. He smiles differently. 

But he rolls up in an import. Maybe he hasn’t changed that much.

—

The job right now is to make contact with O'Conner, find out why he’s still in with Braga, and bring him in. To do that he’s going to have to get Brian’s attention, and to do that - well. Winning the race will be a good start, he’s sure. It all depends on Brian. Dom only really knew Brian Spilner, the buster who liked to race and wanted to be part of Dom’s family; Brian O'Conner, the cop, had pulled a gun on him, fought with him, then let him go. Dom isn’t sure who’s going to be staring back at him this time. The profile the feds gave him on Special Agent O'Conner was less than helpful. This Brian could be anyone.

Before the race itself Dom has to endure the standard ‘see and be seen’ roll up. He leans against his car, arms crossed over his chest, and waits for Brian to show. This is a race, the guy probably still likes cars, it’s as good a place as any to try for an introduction.

Having Brian nose through the crowd in a blue-grey Supra Dom did not expect. He has to take a second look to determine it’s not the same car he and Brian built all those years ago, but it doesn't look the same. Dom itches to look under the hood, but that wouldn’t be polite. Especially not before a race. And Brian is clearly racing.

Dom watches as he gets out of his car and greets a few people, and then, as though his arrival was the signal, there’s a call for the four drivers to line up. Dom tries to catch his eye before Brian gets into the car, but Brian’s friendly yet impersonal gaze skims over him and then the door is closing. 

Dom straightens up, gets into his own car, and realizes that his hands are shaking. What the fuck.

As the GPS kicks in and starts a countdown, Dom lets the thought percolate: If Brian’s already one of Braga’s drivers, then why is he racing?

—

As soon as the race starts Dom realizes that there are only two actual racers in this, and it’s clear that the other two don’t stand a chance. They’re a quarter of the way through when he realizes that Brian is pacing him, not jockeying for position or seemingly desperate to prove himself. It’s as if he’s shadowing Dom; almost like he’s playing with him.

If Brian’s already running for Braga like he’s been told, if Brian is the lead driver, then this ‘audition’ scene makes a lot more sense. Dom would want a feel for his drivers too. And what better way to get to know someone’s driving than by racing against them yourself. So Dom stops trying to beat Brian and starts playing back instead. 

He hasn’t gotten to do this in a while. It’s a rush.

They weave in and out of the light traffic and each other’s lines effortlessly and cross the finish line at the same time. 

—

Brian’s out of his car already, grinning at him. It’s that same grin from forever ago, after their first race: pleased and exhilarated. Dom’s breath catches a little and he forces himself to breathe steadily. 

On the edge of the crowd the organizer (Yashar, Dom recalls) starts walking over, but Brian beats her to him.

Brian says, “Good race, man. But why didn’t you push for it? You could have beat me.” His tone is playful, and he’s still smiling, but there’s something in his eyes…

Dom quirks a smile at him, raises a brow. “And here I thought you were putting me through my paces, seeing how I’d react. I thought it was as good an interview as any.” Dom waits a beat. Should he push further? Is that enough? 

Apparently it is. Brian’s smile lights up further, if that’s even possible, and his eyes are smiling now. He steps closer to Dom. “Huh. You’re the first one to get that. Normally they just try to win.” His head tilts to the side a bit, like he’s looking for a better angle on Dom. He holds out his hand. “Brian,” he says, and Dom gives his name, and they shake, and then Brian is steering him through the noisy crowd and into a nearby building. 

They end up at a low table near the wall and Brian removes his hand from Dom’s back, asks him what he’d like to drink, and reappears moments later with two Coronas. The whole thing, from leaving the cars to drinking, takes less than a minute. 

He’s pretty sure he got the gig, but it pays to be certain. 

“So I take it I got the job,” Dom asks nonchalantly. Across from him, Brian snorts.

“Well, you’re definitely a sight behind the wheel.” Brian sits forward a bit, leers at him. It doesn’t feel genuine, so Dom doesn’t react the way he would have in Lompoc to some guy pulling the same macho shit: namely, punching the leer off his face and seeing which teeth went with it.

Instead he leans back, sprawls into the sofa more. If Brian is trying to make him uncomfortable it’s going to take more than some half-assed macho posturing. Dom raises an eyebrow at Brian. “I think I’ve proven I can keep up.”

Brian laughs at him, but his voice is serious. “Why are you here, Dominic Toretto?”

They’ve barely talked and already this conversation feels like a minefield, like one wrong word will bring down the house of cards he’s standing on. He flashes back to Penning’s endless reports, to one of the agents they’d sent in after Brian's apparent death. She’d written she had won the race, met with Yashar and Campos after. Someone who could have been Brian was in the room too, though they hadn't realized that until later. The fed hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him to be sure. They’d talked, and then they’d paid her for her win and sent her on her way. Her services would not be required, they'd said. She’d written, “It felt like he knew I was lying.”

Dom reminds himself that Brian O'Conner was undercover professionally and probably knows liars from the inside out. He’s probably real good at spotting them, even freshly amnesiac. He's still got all his other skills after all. 

So the truth then. What is Dom here for? 

“I came to drive for Braga, but it’s not every day I meet someone who could, possibly, have beaten me. Now I'm all curious."

Well, part of the truth at any rate. It should be enough.

Brian’s eyes have narrowed a bit even though he’s still smiling. Dom isn’t sure what to make of that. Brian seems all over the place, but then again maybe Dom is the one all over the place. Christ, this is difficult. Is this what Brian felt when he was trying to get in with Dom and his family? This balancing act between what’s real and what’s fake is fucking hard to maintain. Maybe he should just discard the fake shit they’d provided and commit to one road. Bilkins seemed to think Dom had a shot at getting in with this new Brian, and so far he has to admit it’s gone to plan. They’re talking. Maybe that’s enough.

Why is Dom here? For Brian. For himself, maybe. 

“What does that mean, Dom?” His eyes are sharp.

Or it isn’t enough. What does it mean? That he’s fucked, apparently. 

Although… Brian did leer at him earlier. That makes this almost Brian's fault.

Dom lets his eyes wander from Brian’s, down and then up again. It’s the most deliberate he’s looked at another guy in years. If he thinks about it too much he'll get uncomfortable, and Brian will probably notice that. So he doesn’t think about it, just looks his fill, the way he — 

( _used to_ , whispers his mind, _when Brian was Brian Spilner_ )

— the way he has to right now. He clears his throat, says, “What can I say, you’ve got a way with your car.”

The tension breaks. Brian is all genuine smiles again, laughing wryly at him. “Thanks man, really, but I don’t get involved with my drivers. That gonna be a problem?”

Dom shakes his head, forces himself to smile ruefully at him. It feels weak, but Brian doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t react at all, just continues to look at him thoughtfully. 

Dom is gonna have to say something, ‘cause Brian sure ain’t. “That mean I have the job?”

“Yeah.” There’s what’s gearing up to be an awkward silence before Brian stands up and says, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the team.”

— 

Dom meets Santiago, Kelly, and Anna in quick succession. Along with Brian and now him, they’re the crew that makes the runs. He’s also introduced to Paul, the guy whose place Dom is taking. He would have thought it’d be awkward, but Paul and his wife are apparently expecting their first kid and, “You know how it is: with us drivers, accidents happen. Better to get out now.” Dom approves.

They spend a short time with each driver, talking cars mostly, before Brian moves him along to the next one, impersonal fingertips on his shoulder to nudge him when needed. Aside from that they don’t touch. Dom is profoundly grateful. He’s still a little on edge from earlier.

It’s ridiculous. Dom is here to get Brian to the feds, that’s it. Get friendly with him, get him to trust him, see if he can jog his memory about being a fed, maybe find out what’s going on with Braga, and get out. 

Get back to Mia, to his family. ... To Letty, maybe.

God, Letty is somewhere out there. It’s the first he’s realized it, it’s taken more than a week to get to this point and it’s just now that he’s thinking about it. If there’s no more heat on him, if he could come home permanently, they could start up again. Even though it’d been two years since he left her in the night she might want that. 

Does he want that? He feels different now. He doesn’t hunger for the thrill anymore even though he will probably always crave the freedom of an open road. She’s probably different too. Would they still match up like they once did?

Brian must realize that he’s distracted, because he presses a new phone on him and tells him to answer it when it rings. Aside from that, he’s clear to leave. They’ll be in touch.

And then he’s gone. Dom stands alone for a second or two before he shakes his head hard and leaves. 

The drive back is not relaxing.

—

When he gets home he hugs Mia tightly. They cling to each other for a minute or two, and then he kisses her forehead and asks her about her day. 

She tells him all about her new co-workers, and how they desperately need to be taken down a peg or two, and he laughs with her and then at her and offers increasingly outrageous advice, and later when they’re quiet she says, “Dom, we’re going to be okay,” and he believes her.

—

The next morning he meets up with another fed. He’d called the night before and had told them he was in, and that he’d been given what is most likely a trackable phone with the expectation that it’s always on him.

Their high-tech solution was to send him to some random coffee shop and have someone meet him.

Her name is Trinh. She’s Brian’s partner. “Well, sort of former partner, I guess? Considering that he’s legally dead and everything.” She blinks a little, then continues. “But yes, we used to work together.”

Trinh is not what he expected from a federal agent. Then again, he hadn’t pegged Brian as a cop either so what does he know.

He tells her about the previous day, but he doesn’t have useful information for her. Even telling her the scant info he knows makes his stomach rebel: he’s willingly feeding the feds info on someone else.

And even though the guy in question is a fed himself, the man he raced with yesterday doesn’t know it. 

Dom had thought, before the race last night, that maybe this was all a lie. That maybe Brian knew exactly who he was and was playing everyone. After all he’d done it before. Dom had thought that in giving the feds back their man, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just delivering a wayward employee. 

But Brian, the Brian he’d met yesterday? He didn’t know he was a fed. He knew that he worked for Braga. So what, exactly, was Dom doing here? Turning in someone for his own gain? So he could live in LA again?

Was that who he was now?

“Tell me about when O'Conner went missing,” he says to Trinh. Anything to stop his own thoughts.

She looks up from stirring her coffee and starts talking. Most of it was stuff he already knew from Penning and Bilkins: Braga was probably running drugs, they couldn't pin anything on him, no one even knew what he looked like, etcetera. He was on the FBI most wanted. 

She says, “He used to have races every few weeks up to about six months ago, recruiting new blood, and Brian got the tip that there was going to be another one, and then he went a few rounds with our boss to go undercover instead of his informant, and -“ 

“Why would he need to do that?”

Trinh's mouth twists, and she searches his face before answering. “Everyone knew about Brian’s undercover work in LA. When he was in Miami and DC it was different, but LA… When he was recommended to the FBI, they noted in his file he should avoid undercover assignments entirely. But he’s too good at them, so eventually they struck that out. Then they just wanted him to avoid, well, you I guess? After his… leave of absence between LA and Miami, the higher ranks were probably concerned.”

Dom wants to ask about that weighted pause and ‘leave of absence’, but Trinh is already moving on.

"Brian argued that he had the best chance of success, and that his source only had information, not a guaranteed in. That Braga was too important to waste time. And well, you know Brian." She smiles, nostalgic. "He's very persuasive."

Dom levels a flat look at her and she sits up straighter for a second before relaxing into the booth again.

"Why are you doing all this," she wants to know. Her voice is hard. It’s a little surprising. He didn’t expect fire from her. “The little I got from Brian made it seem like you'd never want to see him again. But here you are. Don't get me wrong: I want Brian back too. We may not have known each other very well, but he was my partner; as much as he was anyone's partner. I care about him. When we thought he was dead..." 

Her hands dig into the ugly formica. "Look, I just want to make sure that you're doing what's in Brian's best interests. He's a good man. Even if he doesn't remember that right now."

That’s apparently all she has to say because she falls silent. The tension that had crept into her over the last few minutes has dissipated. 

Dom isn't sure what to say. 

He's here to get Brian back to the FBI; he's trying to get his life in LA back. He wants to be closer to Mia, to get to be part of her life again. But Trinh is right - he hadn't thought he'd ever want to see Brian again. This situation is not one he ever expected. That doesn't mean he's going to mess this up though. 

Yeah, Brian was there when Dom’s life went up in flames, but he’s come to realize that just because Brian was there doesn't mean it was his fault. 

Dom's choices are his own. He made them, he can face their consequences. And in the end Brian had let him go, gave him his keys and Dom's freedom. Kept him out of prison. Dom owes him for that, even if he'll never say it out loud to Brian.

"I'm going to get him out. What happens after that, I can't say. But I am getting him out of there." Dom's smile feels fierce and Trinh's answering smile is a match to his. 

—

Dom is driving home when his new phone rings. From what he'd gathered, there wasn't going to be a run for a few days at least. That it’s going off now is a surprise. He takes a quick look around, spots a black and white a block down in the oncoming lane, and slips neatly into an empty parking spot. It would be beyond idiotic to get the attention of the cops right now for something as stupid as using the phone while driving. He’d never hear the end of it.

"Hey, man. You busy?" It's Brian. 

Dom looks around. "Not particularly."

"Way I figure it, you owe me a drive. A real drive. You up for it?" 

Dom has to chuckle. Brian wants a rematch. He's not surprised. "Always. When were you thinking?"

Brian says, "Awesome. Come meet me now and we'll go." He rattles off an address that is surprisingly close to the Toretto home, and then finishes up with, "30 minutes enough, or do I need to give you more time?” The challenge is obvious. Dom is maybe 40 minutes away going the speed limit, and there really must be a tracker in this phone for Brian to know that.

"I'll be there in 25," he promises. Fuck it, he can outrun any cops that try and stop him.

20 minutes later Dom pulls up at the address Brian gave him. The passenger door opens just as he's coming to a stop, and Brian slides into the seat with a bright grin. 

"Head for the PCH," Brian orders. He sounds smug. 

"So I'm playing chauffeur now?" Dom’s hands are resting on the wheel, relaxed. He turns his head just enough to catch Brian's eye, to see the amused look on his face. This Brian always seems to cycle back to amused. It's odd to think he’s so similar to the Brian Dom once knew. Dom would have guessed running with a drug lord would tamp down on that amusement some, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. “Thought you wanted a real drive.”

Brian looks at him and flutters his eyelashes a bit. It’s ridiculous, Dom tells himself firmly. “I am getting a real drive. Show me what you can do when you’re not matching someone else.” Brian slouches a bit in his seat, getting comfortable, adjusting the seatbelt further. 

Dom looks at him a second longer, then feels the corner of his mouth turn up a bit. A real drive, huh. Let’s see how cool he is when Dom shows him what he can really do. 

The Chevelle roars as he takes them out.

— 

He eventually pulls over into the lot of a roadside diner and lets the car idle, Brian still laughing occasionally beside him. 

God, he’s missed driving for the fun of it. Thinking back on his life in Panama Dom realizes it’s been years since he’s felt the sheer joy of driving his car on a sun drenched road, engine rumbling beneath him, nowhere to go and nothing to do except drive wherever he feels like. 

He shakes his head a little from side to side, rolls his shoulders. The tension there doesn’t go away, but the feeling is heady and he doesn’t mind the lingering soreness. 

When he can’t put it off any longer Dom looks over at Brian. He’s flushed and grinning the same grin that’s been on his lips for what feels like hours now, sprawled languidly in his seat. He’s still letting out almost disbelieving chuckles every once in a while, and he glances over at Dom before grinning hard and starting the cycle all over again.

Dom’s grinning now too, helpless; Brian’s laughter is intoxicating and it’s just like five years ago when Dom felt like laughing all the time. But this isn’t five years ago, Dom reminds himself harshly, and Dom is here for a reason. 

He needs to remember that. His shoulders flare with tension again and this time it’s a painful reminder. 

This isn’t some joyride with a friend, no matter how much he’s missed both the driving and the man. 

He finally lets go of the gearshift and turns the engine off. It’s well past noon and he’s hungry. He gets out. The passenger door opens and Brian steps out too, flush still high on his face and smile on his lips. Dom starts up the path to the diner and Brian falls into step with him. They’re quiet until they get a table, and then Brian apparently can’t handle the silence anymore. 

“Where have you been all my life, man?” he says, and it’s a little like the puppy act Dom remembers from their first time around. Brian is so very eager and happy right now that it’s a little disconcerting. Then again, Dom knows he’s better than anyone else Brian could have driven with. The way Brian was whooping and yelling as they took that particularly tight turn means he probably knows it too.

Brian continues, “That was amazing. I think you could actually beat me. Seriously, where have you been hiding?”

Dom contents himself with, “Central America, mainly, and I definitely would,” because it’s the truth and because he can be an asshole sometimes, but Brian just laughs and throws his balled-up napkin at him. 

“Well, try not to make plans to go back any time soon,” Brian replies, and that appears to be that. They order and talk about the work Dom’s put into the Chevelle and the mods he’d like to make in the future.

By the time he pulls up in front of the address Brian gave him earlier, it’s dark out. They missed dinner at some point, but neither of them mentioned stopping unless it was for gas and Dom hadn’t wanted to pull off anywhere.

The engine ticks as it cools down and they sit in the silence for a moment. Then Brian throws a grin his way and unbuckles his seatbelt, reaches for the door, and before Dom can stop himself he's asking, “Driving is one thing, but some of the stuff I’ve heard… What made you take up with Braga?”

Up until now their encounter has been surprisingly comfortable, the conversation flowing and natural; similar enough to what he used to have with Vince, like he could say anything and it would be okay, and aside from a few moments Dom has felt relaxed and content all day. That feeling has completely disappeared. The tension ratchets up and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Brian has frozen with the tips of his fingers on the handle. 

Stupid, he snarls at himself, so stupid. He's meant to be gaining Brian's trust, what the fuck is he doing asking shit like that? He can’t take it back now, and what’s more Dom realizes he wants to know the answer with a desperation that shocks him. Why did Brian stay on with Braga’s operation? It doesn’t add up with what he knows about Brian, from the new info he’s gleaned from the FBI file.

Brian suddenly jerks back into the seat, posture straight, eyes seemingly sunken into his face. There isn't a trace of slouch to him now. When he speaks his voice is flat and clipped. Emotionless. 

"A while ago I was in an accident. Car flipped a few times; I don't remember it. They said I was lucky to get away with so few injuries. That it could have been worse. I don't remember the crash; I don't remember anything before the crash either.”

Dom remains silent with effort. He can see muscles twitching in Brian's tanned forearm as his hands clench on his thighs.

"Campos was there, after. Said I worked with him. That I drove for our boss. He was right, so I stayed. Where else would I have gone.”

Brian shifts and cold eyes are cutting across at him. He's not emotionless now, he’s all hard edges and barely-masked fury and Dom fights to keep himself from responding to the threat he’s seeing. "Campos knows that, and Yashar. That’s it. I find out somebody else does, and I know where to start.” 

He's out of the car and out of sight before Dom has a chance to say anything at all. He breathes deeply, letting the adrenaline run out of him.

That was not what he expected. 

—

"Well, what did you expect?" Mia asks. 

They're sitting in the living room. She's drinking tea, and he's not-drinking his beer. It goes well with how he's not-eating the food on his plate. 

"You didn't see him, Mia. It was as if he'd flipped a switch." 

Dom's gone up against a lot of crazy people, has worked with his fair share of crazy, and still. Brian in the car, staring at him, eyes hard and flat - that had been intense in a way Dom wasn't used to. 

Then again, normally he was the one bringing the crazy. 

A thought occurs to him that sends a rush of cold down his spine. The GPS in the phone. Brian had effectively confirmed it was being tracked, and he'd flat out said he knew where Dom lived. What if something happened to Mia because of all this? 

No. 

That wasn't gonna happen. Not least because Dom would die before he let anything touch Mia, but he didn't think Brian would do that. Was capable of it, of course. But that he'd actually harm someone who wasn't a threat? It just didn't feel right. 

He reaches over the table and touches his sister's arm. She blinks, her expression momentarily far away, then smiles at him. 

"I was so mad at him; for a long time I was furious. If I'd run into him and things were different, I don't know how I would have reacted. Probably not well.” Her expression grew fierce. "But he kept you out of prison. They searched for him for months, Dom. I saw the coverage. That kind of -" she hesitated and he knows he doesn't want to hear the rest, but she goes on regardless "- that kind of devotion to someone must come with a price. I think you saw the other side of it today." 

"You think he was protecting someone?"

"Maybe he was. You said he's been with them for six months. He only knew us for a few weeks and look what he did for you." She sniffs a little and the fierceness bleeds out of her bit by bit, until she’s his baby sister again. "Maybe that's just who he is. Maybe he’s like that to everyone he meets."

She gets up from the table, avoiding his eyes, and kisses his forehead before walking away. 

Dom sits there for a long time before he goes upstairs too. 

Sleep doesn't come easy. 

—

Bilkins wants a status report. Dom almost tells him to go fuck himself before common sense prevails again. If he wants out of this, he going to have to play nice with the man. 

Doesn't mean he has to like it. 

Dom tells the fed that he's working on it and that it's gonna take some time for Brian to trust him. 

Bilkins mutters something Dom can't make out and then says, “Get him out, Toretto.”

The line goes dead. 

A real pleasant guy, is Bilkins. 

For a lack of anything else to do, Dom calls Trinh. She agrees to meet him at Brian's old apartment with only a little hesitation.

"Normally it wouldn't still be there, but I guess Brian paid the rent in advance. His landlord didn't realize anything was wrong until a month ago, and by then we had news that Brian might be alive. His apartment has been watched ever since." Trinh asks him, "What are you looking for?"

Dom doesn't know. "It could be nothing," he tells her. 

He's waiting outside the address she gave him when she pulls up. Trinh may not look like typical FBI, but her car is standard fed. That's a little comforting.

They walk into the building and go up two flights of stairs before she stops at a door. "Guess this is it," she says, low.

Dom looks at her. "You haven't been here before?" He doesn't say, 'What kind of partners were you that you never saw his home?' He feels it's implied. 

She shifts her weight a little - yeah, she heard all he didn't say - but stands her ground. "Brian liked his privacy." 

He’s got nothing to say to that.

She opens the door, and they step through. 

—

There isn't a lot to look at inside. The kitchen is dingy, the living room floor is piled with what looks like file boxes, and the air is stale. There's a dead plant in one corner, a few car magazines strewn about the coffee table, and a couch that’s beat to shit. 

Dom looks around the sparse apartment again. "When did he move back to LA?" 

"He's been here just over a year, according to his file."

She's looking around same as he is. Maybe they’re both trying to get a handle on who Brian O'Conner was when he was at home. 

The answer is mostly depressing. There aren't any photos on display, no posters or paintings on the wall, and the few books on the shelf are mostly law enforcement related. 

Dom forces himself to move further into the apartment. He opens one door that turns out to be for the bathroom. It's clean and empty, so he closes it behind him, tries the opposite door: closet. Lots of shoes and jackets in fed colours. That door gets closed too. 

There's only one remaining now; he pauses with his hand on the knob, calls himself a fucking coward, and shoves open the door. 

Once he flicks the light on Dom is somewhat surprised: Brian's bedroom is not quite the empty shell the living room had turned out to be, although it comes close. At least there’s some stuff on the single nightstand: an alarm clock, a cell phone and a charging cable. Before he can think about it too much Dom opens the nightstand drawer. A few items move with the momentum, but it's nothing worth looking through. Typical guy stuff. Dom leaves the tube and box alone and closes the drawer again. 

The small bookshelf in the room boasts a few generic crime novels and some more magazines. Nothing he's interested in, but at least the room looks lived in. 

Dom turns to the closet. Clothes. Well, of course there's clothes in his closet, Dom tells himself. What did you expect? He's about to close it again when something metallic catches his eye. There's a box pushed into a corner, half hidden by a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie. 

He sits on the bed and opens the metal box. It's a strange assortment. On top is a few wads of cash, a passport, a gun and a badge. Underneath all that Dom identifies another phone, a woven bracelet, a set of Nissan keys, and a photo. Dom picks the photo up, smiling a little when he recognizes it. 

It's of them. Dom forgets who had taken the photo, one of Hector’s cousins maybe, but they're all there beside the gleaming orange of the Supra. Mia is happy and cheerful, a smile on her face and her arms somehow around Leon, Letty and Dom. Jesse is laughing while hanging off Leon’s other side, and Letty is confident and beautiful as she smirks at the camera from in between Mia and Dom. Vince is near Letty, smiling down at Mia in that besotted way he’d done back then, and Dom's next breath is a painful one. 

Vince is gone now, somewhere in South America last he heard; his and Dom's paths haven't crossed in years. Leon disappeared ages ago, and Jesse... 

Dom still remembers Jesse taking his last breath, how still he was in Dom's arms and how Jesse had been looking up at him beseechingly. 

It's another minute before he can open his eyes again, memories of his lost family safely locked away once more. 

In the photo Dom's head is tilted towards Brian's and Brian is smiling back at him, easy and affectionate. Dom feels his lips twist. That would have been a few days before Race Wars, a few days before everything went to shit. Back when things were uncomplicated, and Brian was just another wannabe gearhead - one who had somehow gotten behind all of Dom's walls. 

It's a nice photo for all the pain it stirs up. 

When he and Trinh leave the apartment he takes it and the phones with him. There’s nothing else for him there.

—

Brian calls him in the morning a few days later. 

“We’re up. I’m texting you an address: be there in an hour. Any questions?” He sounds professional and there’s no trace of the man he’d driven with days previously, so Dom evens out his voice and responds in kind. 

“None. I’ll be there.” He’s about to drop the phone when the silence seems to change. It’s a stupid thought, but he doesn’t end the call and keeps the phone pressed to his ear. 

He doesn’t wait long.

“Hey,” Brian says. “About the other day.”

Dom realizes after a moment of silence that somehow manages to sound expectant that Brian is waiting for a response. He makes a noise - _go on_ \- and is relieved when Brian does.

“I don’t normally talk about shit like that. I’m sorry if things got a bit weird. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He stops again. 

God, what is it with all the minefields. What’s Dom supposed to say to that?

“I just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page. You seem like a good guy; I like you. I just wanted to clear the air between us.”

“We’re good.” This Dom can work with - this is a leader trying to make sure the job goes smoothly, that no personal shit gets in the way of business. Besides: “I get it; your personal life is your own. I got no right to it.”

Brian says, “Yeah,” but he doesn't sound as effortlessly confident as he normally does. 

“I’ll be there,” Dom promises. “One hour.”

There’s a low laugh down the line. Dom tries to ignore how good it sounds. “55 minutes now, dude, don’t you own a watch?” The line goes dead.

Dom shakes himself and then goes inside the house to say goodbye to Mia. It’s still early, but he can already tell it’s gonna be a long day.

—

He pulls into the warehouse behind four other cars. He skims his eyes over them, nods with approval. Nice rides in general, though the Skyline in the lead looks the sweetest. In the absence of the Supra from the previous race, he’d bet the GT-R is Brian’s. The man seems to gravitate to the Japanese models.

There’s a small crowd of people centred around Yashar, Brian among them, while a few others seem to be sweeping the cars with electronics. Dom is fucking satisfied he successfully argued against the tracking devices the FBI wanted him to go in with. Amateurs. 

He gets out of his car and wanders over to join the rest of the drivers. The look Yashar gives him is frank in its appraisal and she smiles slightly as she meets his eyes. Dom raises an eyebrow at her and she smirks before giving them their instructions and more tech. Brian is a silent figure behind her, gaze roving around the room. He locks eyes with Dom once before blinking and looking away. Dom takes a much needed breath and focuses on Yashar again. 

Soon enough they’re driving into a waiting truck. The other three stand beside their strapped in cars and try to engage Dom in conversation, but Brian is still in the GT-R and Dom doesn’t feel up to talking right now. He politely declines through his open window, and Kelly tells him, “Okay, just keep in mind it’s an open invitation,” before turning back to the other two. He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. 

Hours pass.

The other drivers had wandered to the far side of the truck at some point, and it’s quiet enough around him that he can easily hear the approaching footsteps. 

“We’re almost there.” Brian sounds close.

Dom opens his eyes.

Brian is leaning down enough that Dom can see his face through the open window. 

“Alright.” They stare at each other. Dom’s breathing has gone shallow and he makes himself take a deep breath; his heartbeat is loud in his ears. 

Brian coughs a little and some of the intensity bleeds out of his eyes. Dom swallows.

“Stay close to me when we’re in the tunnels.” Brian straightens up again and says in a louder voice, “Okay everyone, back in your cars. Five minutes.”

Five minutes later they’re outside the truck and crates are being loaded into the trunks of their cars. That’d be the shipment. Five massive crates. Dom feels a little sick. Just how much are they carrying?

Brian pulls out in the lead and Dom follows him. The others fall in, and then they’re off. 

Yashar is speaking over the open channel and Dom listens, but he’s more interested in the silhouette of Brian’s GT-R ahead of him. They make it in without setting off the heat sensors, and then they’re in the tunnels. At that point Dom starts listening more intently to Yashar’s instructions. 

Jesus Christ, Dom thinks, they do this every time? The tunnels are fucking narrow, but Yashar’s calm voice gets them through the maze and they make it through without incident. 

They pull up to the drop site on the California side, and Dom follows suit when the others pop their trunks and get out of their cars. The girls talk and stretch a bit while Brian coordinates with four new people who offload the crates into two Hummers before they peel out.

The switch takes less than a minute, and then Brian is handing out brown messenger bags to them all before sliding back into his car, the rest of them a second behind him. 

They’re close to LA when the sun starts to rise, and one by one the others pull off the I-5. Dom has been stifling yawns for the last hour or so. It’s been a while since he’s done an all nighter, and it’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s not twenty-five anymore. 

Soon he and Brian are all that’s left and his exit is coming up fast, and Dom decides he’s not that tired after all. He pulls up beside the GT-R and waits for Brian to look over. When he does, Dom inclines his head at the upcoming exit sign and raises an eyebrow. Brian’s lips quirk, and after a second he nods. Dom pulls ahead and takes the exit. Brian is right behind him.

He leads them toward a place he remembers from a lifetime ago. They always had great coffee and an even better breakfast, and Dom could use some of both right now. The roads are quiet and smooth: it’s a nice drive. No rush of adrenaline, just the purr of the engine beneath him and the knowledge that there’s someone at his back. It’s a good feeling. 

They get breakfast. 

They talk about inconsequential things at first, but at one point he finds himself telling Brian about Mia’s ongoing battle with her coworkers, of all things, and how she’s getting entirely fed up with them and is planning retribution. Brian looks away, says “She sounds amazing,” and Dom hears himself say, “My _sister_ is more than amazing and also off limits.” He doesn’t recognize his own harsh voice at first. And yeah, okay, he admits there was more than a little hurt in that statement. 

But Brian is looking at him again and he’s smiling kind of shyly, fucking hell, and goes, “Sister, not a girlfriend. That makes it easier,” and then he takes a bite of pancake. 

Dom stares at him.

Brian’s ears have gone red at the tips and he’s seemingly intent on his breakfast. 

“I thought -” He breaks off to clear his voice; it’s gotten too hot in here, and his throat feels tight. “I thought you didn’t get involved.” He can’t say what he’s thinking outright. What if he’s wrong? 

Brian meets his eyes head on, no hesitation in his gaze. “Like I said, I like you.” He swallows and Dom watches his throat move. “Plus you bring me to the nicest places.” He’s grinning again and it’s like looking at the sun. 

Dom feels himself lick his dry lips, and then he has to close his eyes to block out the sight of Brian’s blue eyes dipping down to watch. When he opens them again it’s to Brian’s expectant face, eyes back on his own.

Dom starts, “I haven’t ever…” and then winces a little when he trails away into nothing. Talk about lame. Whatever happened to his killer reputation? This is just embarrassing. 

Brian’s gaze is steady and he’s smiling at Dom. “It’s okay. I figured.” He leans back in his chair. “Do you want to get lunch with me tomorrow? I’m going to be a little useless for the rest of today.”

Dom nods. He’s feeling pretty useless right now, but lunch, yeah. That sounds good.

Brian breathes, “Okay.” His voice is firmer when he continues, ”I’ll call you? Lunch tomorrow.” He stands up, drops a few bills on the table, and then slides one hot hand onto Dom’s shoulder and squeezes. “See you.”

Dom is flying high, the Chevelle roaring down the interstate around him, when he finally remembers that he’s supposed to be bringing Brian in to the feds so they can take down his boss. 

Fuck.

—

Mia takes one look at him when she gets back, seats them both at the kitchen table, and says, “Okay. Spill,” and he does, because she’s his sister and he loves her - but Christ does he wish she didn’t know him so well right now. 

How exactly is he supposed to say that he and Brian are - what - going on a date tomorrow? That not only did he just smuggle drugs across the border, but that he’s dating her ex-boyfriend? Her ex-boyfriend who happens to be the reason Dom is back in LA, because the FBI want their agent back to take down a drug lord. Christ. 

Dom has never been exactly clear on what happened with Mia and Brian. He knew they were flirting, he knew Mia liked Brian, he knew Brian took her out. He also knew that Brian spent a lot of time around Dom himself, watching him, and that for a while there Dom had looked back at Brian and idly thought about it. But that’s as far as it ever went. He had Letty, he was happy with Letty, and in the end Brian was a cop and that was that. Dom was gone.

If he hadn’t needed to get in with Brian, if he hadn’t needed to make an impression, he probably never would have thought about it again. But it didn’t matter now - he had thought about it, a lot over the last week, and now he and Brian were going to have lunch tomorrow.

Once he’d left the US and he and Mia had started to sporadically communicate again, he’d never found an opportunity to talk to her about the Brian thing. That seemed like an oversight suddenly. 

In the beginning he hadn’t wanted to think about Brian unless he was cursing him. Those first few months had involved quite a lot of cursing. Though maybe it was more that he hadn’t wanted to talk to Mia about the thing with Brian. The betrayal he’d felt had been devastating for a long time. Mia had said it best the other night: he’d been furious with Brian. But that was years ago, and now he regretted that he hadn’t ever brought it up before. 

Dom has no idea how she’s going to react. Especially because he was terrible about beating around the bush: he’d take the direct approach any day.

“Brian asked me out. I said yes. And now we’re going for lunch tomorrow.” 

Mia’s shocked face stared back at him.

Admittedly sometimes the direct approach wasn’t the best option. Dom directed the rest to the table so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“I’m supposed to be bringing him to the FBI, but.” Brian had asked, and Dom couldn’t say no. Didn’t want to, not now that he’d started thinking about it. 

And of course, “He really doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember us.” He grimaces. “He thought you were my girlfriend when I mentioned you.”

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes there’s a lot that’s gone off plan. 

“And today I helped bring cases of some drug into the States.” At least if it had been guns, people like Jesse’s mom wouldn’t get addicted and fuck up their kids. Drug importing was on another level of fucked up.

Mia’s hand touches his and he looks up. “The plan is to get the man at the top, right?” Her voice is firm. Dom nods. “Then it’s fine. You’re going to bring him down, and he won’t be able to sell to anyone else. And you’re going to get that pardon, and then you’re going to come home for real.” She smiles a bit, though it looks strained. Her voice is a little sharper than normal. “And then maybe we can talk more often, so things like this don’t surprise me so much.”

He huffs a laugh at that, and she says, “Seriously! I had no idea!” But she pushes at his shoulder a bit and he lets her move him, so he figures they’re fine. 

He offers quietly, “I didn’t know either. Not really,” and she smiles at him again. This time it looks real. 

“So!” she says, eyes bright. “Lunch.” 

—

Dom had checked in with the feds when he got home after the run and given them a bare bones summary. Bilkins wasn’t impressed with the lack of result, and then he’d gone a little crazy at him about the shipment going free. Dom tuned him out until he’d hit the limit on what he was willing to take from the FBI. 

They had wanted him for this job, not the other way around. Now they were gonna have to deal with the fact that he didn’t jump whey they told him to.

“I’ll get it done,” he had growled and then hung up. Hitting the virtual button didn’t leave him with the same feeling as being able to slam down a receiver, but it was satisfying nonetheless. 

All that had been yesterday when he’d still been tired, and today Dom was going to lunch with the guy he was supposed to convince to turn on his boss. Penning had made vague noises in the beginning about telling Brian he was really FBI, but Dom was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a good play. Bilkins just wanted Brian to give them the intel they needed to take down Braga. 

And Dom was supposed to get him on his side. Somehow? Exactly how did they think that was supposed to work? Fucking feds didn’t know what they were asking. 

Brian had called earlier and asked, “We still on for today?” and Dom had said yes maybe a little too quickly, but all Brian had said was, “Great. How about La Fortuna? Over on Griffin.” Dom had agreed, and they’d set a time. 

He’d already been on the way when he remembered that La Fortuna was similar to their own market, which didn’t seem to make a lot of sense for a date, but whatever: Brian had chosen the place. 

Brian arrives while Dom is leaning against his car, and Dom half expects things to get awkward. Instead Brian walks up to him, touches Dom’s arm, and tilts his head in the direction of the market. “Coming?” 

Dom follows him in. 

They end up getting sandwiches to go, and then Brian leads them to a nearby park. The cars climb the hill with ease, and soon they’re stopping at a lookout point and sitting down to eat at a picnic table. 

An honest to god picnic table. 

Dom says, “All the restaurants you could have chosen, and you decide to take me out to a place where we sit at a picnic table and eat grocery food, huh?”

Brian looks at him. “Yeah.” 

Dom nods. “Okay,” he says, and he gets to watch Brian’s face light up for him again. “But next time we’re going somewhere where they serve Corona.” 

“Sure,” Brian says. Then, “Next time? Getting a bit cocky there don’t you think?”

“You already agreed to a next time, so no,” Dom points out. Brian laughs and Dom flashes back to another time and place, Brian laughing like that and saying ‘Dude, I almost had you.’ Yeah, Dom thinks, you really do. 

“Yeah, I guess I did. Your turn for next time then.” Brian digs into his sandwich. Dom is relieved to note it isn’t tuna.

He unwraps his own meal. Dom has to give him credit; the sandwich is good. Brian ducks his head when Dom tells him so, which seems odd. Brian never struck him as the shy type before, but this is twice now that he’s acted that way. It’s endearing even if Dom doesn’t get the reason for it. 

“So why the Skyline for the run? Why not the Supra?" He's been curious ever since he saw the GT-R in the warehouse. 

Brian grimaces. "As much as I adore the Skyline, and I do, it's my work car. I've got it where it needs to be, and I'll do all the upkeep and mods it needs, but at the end of the day it's the car I use for the job."

Dom nods. That also explains the odd colour - most racers don't go in for black, but Brian's GT-R could probably pull double duty as an FBI car if it needed to. 

"But the Supra... oh, that is one gorgeous car. I found it in this lot - guy didn't know what he had - and bought it. It needed tons of body work, but the engine had had a lot of work done to it previously." Brian's hands sketch out the lines of the car as he explains. It's then they both seem to realize that the car in question is parked behind them, because he laughs at himself and stands up while Dom is getting to his feet. "Come on," Brian says, "should have done this straight off," and he tugs Dom along. Dom is perfectly content to be dragged around if it gets him a look under the Supra's hood. 

When he finally does he almost wishes he hadn't. It's what he imagines seeing a ghost is like. 

This is their car. The one Jesse designed for them, the car that Brian brought Dom. That they'd built together, the two of them. The same car Brian had given him and Dom had left to rot as he drove away from LA. 

Somehow he manages to croak out, "It looks like the '93, but it's a '94 isn't it?"

Brian beams at him. "Yeah, it is. This one - I'm always finding new things to play with. I was thinking about taking another look at the fuel injection, but it's pretty amazing already." He moves out from under the hood so he's leaning against the front end instead. 

When he's upright again Brian levels a questioning look at him, and Dom wonders what his own face is showing for Brian to have that expression. 

He looks over the car again, strokes his fingers along the paint. It really is a beautiful car. Brian's modifications make it look even better than it did years ago. He shakes his head at himself and lets the past go again. 

"You've done good work here.” 

Brian looks a little smug. Whatever, like Dom wouldn't be in his position. Dom can let him have this moment. 

His perusal of the engine has brought him a few steps closer to Brian, still leaning against the end. Brian doesn't move away when Dom steps up even closer, just tilts his head back a little to keep meeting Dom's eyes. The space between them could be measured in inches. 

When Dom speaks his voice comes out in a rumble. "Food, cars... Pretty good date so far."

Brian nods. "I aim to please." 

Silence falls between them. Carefully, Dom reaches a hand out and puts it on Brian's arm. The only response he gets is a slow exhale, but it's enough for Dom to slide his hand further up. Brian's eyes close when his hand cups Brian's cheek, and then they slowly open again. He swallows and Dom feels it through his hand on Brian's cheek. 

This is going alright so far, so he lifts his other hand, shifts his feet slightly so he's more aligned with the still-leaning Brian, then moves to cup the back of Brian's head. His nails skid along the base of Brian's neck by accident, and just as Dom is opening his mouth to apologize Brian pushes up and kisses him. 

Nothing about the kiss is chaste. Brian bites at Dom's lips and then soothes the bite with more kisses before doing it all over again. It's like the best kind of racing, like being at the start point and then halfway down the track, nothing in between but the rush. 

And then Brian's tongue gets involved, and Dom stops thinking about racing entirely. 

Brian's tongue pushes into Dom’s mouth and his hot hands are roaming Dom’s torso, cupping his pecs, and then there’s a finger feathering over his nipple and Dom can't get enough air. He has to wrench his mouth away from Brian to suck in oxygen for a second. Against him Brian has gone still and his hands have lifted off Dom. Through his oxygen rush Dom manages to think _that can’t be good_. Dom pants a few more times and then finds his own hands haven’t moved at all, one still clutching Brian’s neck while the other is against his cheek, and damn, it’s been a long time since Dom had been so passive.

That’s gotta change. He’s all for someone else driving, but passivity just ain’t his style. 

Dom takes another deep breath, mutters, “Okay,” and then tugs Brian closer. “C’mere.” He does. 

Now that he’s not completely blindsided by Brian Dom is a little more active. He kisses Brian with one hand still on his cheek, fingertips stroking behind his ear and thumb smoothing his cheekbone. It’s sweeter than he means it to be, but Brian is making all kinds of sounds into the kiss so it can’t be that bad. 

It hits him that even though Brian’s hands are light against his hips they aren’t moving anymore. Dom figures that’s on him, but luckily it should be an easy fix. Dom slides his hand down Brian’s spine, feeling the hard muscle there, before he tangles their fingers together. He squeezes for a quick second, then drags Brian’s hand back up to his own chest and leaves it there. 

Brian’s lips curve against his and Dom guesses he got the message, because Brian’s hands start to wander again.

It’s fucking amazing.

Dom has just leaned further into Brian, the pair of them pushed up against the Supra, when he feels something buzzing at crotch level. He pulls away from Brian’s mouth enough to breathe a bit, then says, “I think your phone is going off.” Dom is pleased to note that he sounds wry but not devastated at the loss of the kissing. Dom has a reputation after all. A few kisses, no matter how scorching or sweet, should not be enough to bring him to his knees. No matter how fucking hot Brian is. And fine, his knees might be a little weak right now, but that’s not the point. 

“Or maybe I’m just happy to see you,” Brian says cheekily, and Dom groans at the terrible joke. Then he has to groan again when Brian hitches one hip up to get to his pocket and manages to brush against Dom’s hard on. Heat rushes down his spine. When he can see again, Brian looks unbearably smug. Dom narrows his eyes at him and casually leans one hand on the car for support. Christ. 

Brian looks at the display before putting the phone to his ear. “Yeah.” His expression has closed down a little. Dom waits, ready to move away if pushed. The arm curved around his back means he isn’t going anywhere yet though, so Dom stays half bent over Brian. 

Tension creeps into Brian and he straightens, forcing Dom to shift back with him. One hand moves to Dom’s hip, holding him in place. Dom doesn’t move. His heart is hammering in his chest, but this time it’s not from arousal. What the fuck is happening here? 

Brian’s voice is short. “You’re sure?” There’s a pause. “Okay. GTFO. We’ll meet at delta. You want backup?” Another pause. Brian flicks his eyes at Dom and searches his face. It feels like an eternity before Brian relaxes a little, says, “Nah, I’m good. See you soon.”

He hangs up. 

Dom lifts his eyebrows, and Brian inhales deeply. “Want to go on the run with me?” It’s flippant but his eyes are serious.

What the fuck.

Brian’s words are low and fast. “Braga is trying to screw us. That was Gisele. We gotta leave now, I have to warn my drivers to scramble, get some supplies. Dom. I have to go.” He swallows. “But you can come with me, if you want.” There’s that shyness again. Dom still doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Mia,” Dom says. He won’t leave her here, not if something is going down. 

Brian nods like he’d expected that. “She can come too.” 

—

Brian tosses his phone under the picnic table and Dom fishes out the one Brian had originally given him, throws it down with Brian’s. He’s still got his other cell, but Brian pulls two new ones from his console and tosses one at Dom. “Call your sister,” he says. Dom is already dialling. 

Mia picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” She sounds slightly cautious; that’s his clever baby sister. 

“Something’s come up,” Dom says. It’s an understatement, but Mia has always been smarter than he is. She’ll understand. “Can you take off for a bit?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “I’ve got a bag packed and I’ve been hinting at work that I haven’t been feeling well. I can leave without questions. Where are we meeting?” Dom looks over at Brian, who is talking into his own phone. 

He catches his eye, mouths _Where?_ and Brian breaks off to tell him, “We’ll swing by your house; we have a little time.” Dom relays the message and Mia says she’ll be there. They hang up.

Dom still has the payment bag from the run hidden in his car: he has some cash. Back at the house, in the garage he hasn’t been able to enter, Mia had hidden more. They should be good. 

Brian turns to him as he says into the phone, “Take care of yourself Anna,” and then hangs up. He tosses that phone under the table too. “I’ll follow you.”

They drive.

—

He pulls up on the street behind Mia’s Acura, Brian behind him. She must have been listening for the engine inside, because she exits the house as he’s coming up the path. She’s got a bag with her. 

Mia starts talking as soon as she’s close, stops in front of him and hugs him quickly while filling him in. “I got the papers and some money. What else do we need?” 

He’s about to answer her when her body goes rigid, expression tightening. Dom turns. Brian is standing beside the Supra, scanning the street. Giving them the semblance of privacy. 

Right. Dom forgot about this bit. “Brian,” he calls. “This is Mia. Mia, Brian.” To Mia he says lowly, “Like I said, something came up.” He waits. _Okay_? he asks her silently. 

Mia shakes her head at him but that’s not disapproval on her face, so they’re mostly good. She walks up to Brian, stares at him for a second, then smiles. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Dom is so lucky she loves him. 

“You too,” Brian responds, and then shifts his focus to Dom. “Two minutes and then we’ve got to leave.” Dom nods, leaves them to it, and goes into the house. He’s out of his room in thirty seconds with a duffle in hand, and he’s about to leave when something makes him stop. The garage. A minute left now, but he can’t stop himself from going in. The door is open; Mia’s obviously been in here. She must have cleaned it out.

He could just leave.

Instead Dom pushes the door further open and -

It’s his dad’s Charger. Sitting there like he hadn’t rolled the shit out of it years ago, like it hadn’t been fucking destroyed by a semi. It looks just as sleek and terrifying as it did once Dom had restored it before. After Lompoc. 

Somehow he gets the door closed and goes out to meet Mia and Brian; his questions can wait. 

They’re waiting for him on the street. Mia is tucking away a cell phone that looks very similar to the one Brian gave him earlier. How many burner phones does he have? When he gets closer Brian tells them they’re heading towards the coast. He looks at the Acura then at Mia, says dryly, “I think it’s a fair assumption to make that you’re good in a car.”

She looks steadily at him. “I am.” 

He smiles at her. “Okay then. Follow me.” 

They do.

—

They end up near Redondo Beach, of all places. Brian leads them on a circuitous route that doubles back on itself a few times, and after the second odd turn Dom gets that Brian is avoiding the traffic cams. The drive takes three times as long as it would have normally, but Dom is pretty convinced their picture didn’t get taken anywhere. They eventually pull up to a small unassuming house in a quiet neighbourhood, to which Dom raises an eyebrow. There’s a Cayman already parked on the street. It likely belongs to the Gisele from the phone.

Brian lopes up to the door, unlocks it, ducks inside for a moment, then ushers Dom and Mia in. 

Yashar, Gisele apparently, is sitting on the couch inside. She doesn't seem very happy to see them walk through the door, and Dom feels himself bristling at the contempt in her gaze. 

She keeps her eyes on Dom as she speaks to Brian. "What is he doing here?" 

Brian must lock the door behind them; Dom hears a snick and then Brian moves further into the room. "He's with me. Is there a problem, Gisele?" 

"Yes. There is. I understand he is pretty to look at, but you should know better than to bring him along." She narrows her eyes at Dom, who is feeling a little insulted. He’s more than pretty. "He could very well be the one who broke into the office. He could be the reason we need to leave."

Dom opens his mouth to say he hasn't done anything, adrenaline a brief mad rush through him, but Brian raises a quelling hand in his direction and he shuts his mouth. 

Dom wants to punch her for the insinuation; he hasn’t actually done anything yet, though she isn’t far off. Almost in contrast to his own anger, Brian sounds calm. “What happened?"

She turns away from Dom and flicks a considering glance at Mia before looking at Brian. "Someone got into the database; Campos was very distressed. They accessed the same files we have access to. Now Braga is ensuring the silence of anyone in his operation. He sent men to my apartment." She looks scornful. "He didn’t send enough. Now it is your turn, Brian. Why is he here?"

"He was with me when you called." He might as well be wearing mirrored sunglasses for all that Brian is showing. It’s driving Dom more than a little crazy and the attitude isn’t even directed at him.

She makes a derisive noise. “As though that's enough.”

“It is for me.” 

Neither of them appears to be giving in, and Dom is done with the bullshit. 

“Since we’re here and all,” he drawls, “maybe we should plan what to do next. Considering we’re in the same boat, that might be important.” He sees Mia shake her head at him out of the corner of his eye. What? He didn’t do anything wrong. 

Gisele glances at him dismissively before focusing on Brian. “My things are in the far bedroom, but perhaps I should relocate? Or will _they_ share a room.” She’s challenging Brian, although Dom isn’t sure why. He’s missing something and it grates on his nerves.

Mia sounds like she’s finished with this conversation, too. “My brother and I can share. We’ve done it before.” Dom looks at her to see she’s meeting Gisele’s eyes frankly. 

Brian interjects, apparently to the room at large, “There are three bedrooms. Gisele has the one at the end, so Dom and Mia can take the other two. I’ll take the couch.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts down the hall before turning back to look at Dom and Mia, still standing near the entryway. “Mind the weapons.” He walks off.

Across the room Gisele stands, and Dom is surprised at how tall she is. She searches their faces, then snorts to herself before going down the hall as well.

A few seconds later Mia links her arm through his as they stand there in the empty room. It isn’t like they threw down or anything, but he takes comfort in her presence nonetheless. “Well, it’s a good thing that wasn’t awkward at all.” He looks at her incredulously and she smiles, angelic. He doesn’t buy it for a second. “Come on then, big brother. Time to go pick a room.”

—

Brian’s comment about the weapons makes more sense once he steps into the first room. There’s a bed, yes, and a dresser too, but calling it a bedroom is misleading. 

Boxes of ammunition are stacked neatly on the floor, likely grouped by type though Dom doesn’t have enough weapons knowledge to be sure, and the walls display plenty of knives on easily-accessible struts.

It reminds him of a tool wall in a garage. 

He drops his bag behind the door and goes back into the hallway. A glance shows him the front room is still empty, so he moves to the next door down. It’s time for those questions.

Mia opens the door at his quiet knock. She takes one look at his face and sighs, moving back into the room so he can enter. He spares a quick look around; it’s similar to his own. Lots of guns. What does Brian need with so many guns?

She’s sitting on the bed when he can look at her again, expression set into hard lines. He leans against the empty wall, crosses his arms over his chest. He has to force himself not to loom over her. This is his sister for fuck’s sake.

“I saw the car.” 

Mia doesn’t flinch like he half expected her to; she’s waiting for him to finish before saying anything. He remembers this tactic from fights with her when they were kids. Mia’s temper burns slow while his tends to flare, and it led to some spectacular blow ups in the Toretto home, much to the chagrin of their parents.

Dom runs a hand over his head, frustrated. He doesn’t want to fight, he just wants an answer. 

“Was it Letty?”

Mia wouldn’t have touched the car after he’d left. She could have done it, she has the skills to do it, but he knows she hates the Charger. Vince was in the hospital and then took off for South America, Leon had disappeared, Jesse was dead, and no one outside of their family would have dared. 

But he left Letty in another country in the middle of the night two years ago. She had always been clear to travel into the States; it was only Dom himself who was barred from there. Letty had always known what his dad’s car meant to him, knew how much he had regretted leaving it in a crumpled heap by the tracks. 

She would have had more than enough time to find and rebuild it.

It feels like there’s gravel in his throat when he asks again. “Mia, did Letty restore the Charger?” 

“Yeah, Dom. She did. Letty came to see me, and then she stayed at the house for a while.” Mia pauses, then says in a softer voice, “She was looking for a way to bring you home. She asked me not to say anything to you, but I know she was working on something. And then a few months ago she left, told me she had a plan. I heard from her a few weeks ago; she’s been checking in with me. Letting me know she was okay.” 

Dom thinks about the familiar cell phones he’d taken from Brian’s apartment, the source Trinh had mentioned that had come to Brian, Gisele telling Brian about the break in: why they’d had to run. 

Letty. 

Dom covers his eyes with one hand, suddenly exhausted. He should have known.

“Dom.” Mia looks lost. “What are we going to do?”

Dom thinks about Brian somewhere in the house, remembers lunch earlier, and says, “I don’t know.” 

—

They go back to the living room. There isn’t anything else to do and Dom doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now. They talk about the recent roadworks near the house and how the market is doing under the new manager: easy topics.

Not long after Brian shows up, and after a quick acknowledgement of them both the room falls into a strained silence. Brian isn’t looking at Dom. He isn’t sure what to make of it, but it doesn’t seem like a good thing. 

Almost as if by pretending hard enough that everything is fine he can force it to be that way, Brian is exuberantly cheerful as he offers to go get dinner for them. 

Mia mirrors his earnest expression and sweetly suggests that Dom go with him, “Because I’m sure he’d prefer to be doing something rather than stay cooped up in here,” she concludes. 

Brian looks at her helplessly and Dom finds himself suppressing a laugh. That’s Mia for you.

“She’s right,” Dom says fondly. “And there’s no point in refusing her. She always ends up getting her way.” He tries to share the joke with Brian, but the other man still won’t look at him head on. “Unless there’s a problem.” Dom means it to be a tease, a joke, but his voice is too flat.

Brian’s eyes finally meet his, and for a second it feels like he’s taken a punch to the chest. The ice in Brian’s gaze shifts into what looks a lot like uncertainty as Dom stares back at him. 

He doesn’t know what’s showing in his own face, isn’t sure what if anything he can say to fix whatever is happening here, and it feels like a small eternity before Brian is huffing a laugh and smiling at him again. “No problem,” he says.

Fucking hell. Dom never wants to ride a goddamn rollercoaster again for the rest of his life. With all Brian’s ups and downs in the last week or so he’s reached his limit. Dom can’t figure out what he wants more right now: to smack Brian upside the head or to kiss the cold right out of him.

God bless Mia, who has apparently reached her own limit of dealing with them. She claps her hands once like she’s punctuating the end of a sentence, and the tension in the room breaks. “Great. I’m in the mood for Cuban food.”

—

Outside, Dom is about to pull his keys from his jeans pocket when Brian offhandedly says, “Want to drive?” and holds up his own keys. 

Dom stops with his hand still wedged into his pocket. Brian is looking at him the same way he had five years ago, back when he was offering Dom something else. He thought it was just an escape at the time, or that Brian was keeping him out of Lompoc or preventing Brian himself from having to arrest Dom. Hindsight and heightened knowledge of Brian (as much as anyone can know Brian, apparently, secretive bastard that he is) make Dom think that Brian was giving him the only thing he could at the time: freedom, full stop. From the cops, from the shadow of prison, from the spectre of his Dad’s destroyed Charger. Maybe it was just a matter of Brian letting Dom go so he wouldn’t get dragged down with him. 

But he did get dragged into it. He was hunted by the cops Mia had said, and even though he managed to sweet talk himself into another chance, he’d still had to run. 

Maybe Dom should be asking himself why he didn’t ask Brian to come with him. Or not; that doesn’t matter right now, not with this Brian who doesn’t remember that day by the tracks. This Brian asked Dom to come with him today. 

Maybe what Brian was offering, then and now, was his loyalty. And maybe Dom should quit fucking thinking about it and take it this time. 

He’s been silent too long: Brian’s carefully unconcerned expression is starting to stiffen.

Dom reaches out and curls his fingers around Brian’s. He squeezes once and says, “I’d love to.” Then he deliberately glances at the Supra gleaming in the sun, says, “That is some fine bodywork you’ve got there.” 

Brian laughs just like Dom hoped, and then he pushes the keys further into Dom’s grasp and starts to pull away. Before Brian can release him Dom uses his grip on Brian’s hand to pull him a step closer, and then he kisses him. 

When he finally stops to catch his breath he’s got one hand in Brian’s hair and the other clutching a hipbone. Brian looks a little dazed while he pants for breath and Dom is utterly smug. Yeah, he was the one to put that look on Brian’s face and those are his hands on Brian. Brian’s hands digging into Dom’s shoulders is all kinds of amazing too, so he figures he can definitely do this. No more training wheels.

And then, because he really isn’t as smooth as he might like everyone to think, he looks Brian up and down and says, “Okay, so maybe you’ve got two hot bodies.”

Brian stares at him for a second, seemingly baffled, before he sighs. “Man, I cannot believe you just said that. Fuck. What have I got myself into here?” 

But he’s smiling, so he must not care that much.

—

They’re on the way back when Brian spots the tail.

Dom is driving the Supra again at Brian’s request because according to Brian, “Getting to watch you handle a car, Christ; watching you drive my car? Fuck, you’re stunning.” 

Dom has never in his life admitted to blushing, but he definitely feels his face get a little hot at that. 

So even though Dom is maybe a little distracted on the drive back, it’s still unforgivable that he doesn’t notice the car trailing them immediately. Instead it’s Brian who sits straight up in his seat and snaps, “We’ve got comp-“

Dom hears the gunfire and punches the accelerator while swerving into the open right lane. He shoots by a lumbering SUV and loses sight of the tails. Brian twists in his seat to look out the rear window. 

Brian snaps out, “Two on our 6, both armed, one moving to box us on the left.” He pops the front compartment and pulls out a gun then leans out the open window to return fire, and Dom forces himself to watch their route rather than what Brian is doing. He hears more gunfire, takes the next corner almost too fast and is downshifting when Dom hears something shatter and Brian’s shouted “Fuck!” He ducks back in and reloads. Dom looks at him and doesn’t see any blood, so he just says, “What," through clenched teeth.

Brian’s voice is disgusted. “Asshole just shot my mirror off. Can you believe that? Fucker is going down.” He leans out again. There’s another spray of bullets, more glass shattering, and then two more shots before Dom hears the distinct sound of a crash behind them. Brian shouts, “Get in the opposite lane!” and Dom does, his shoulder protesting, right into oncoming traffic. He’s weaving through the thankfully light traffic when he hears that same pattern: a burst of bullets and then two shots in quick succession. There’s another crash behind them, but by the time Dom registers it they’ve already pulled away. 

Brian slides back into his seat and Dom takes a second to check him over. No obvious wounds that Dom can see, but he’s got a murderous look on his face.

Dom grits out, “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Brian looks at him then and laughs. “Man, you were - Shit! Dom, you’re fucking bleeding!” 

And right, that _would_ explain the pain in his shoulder.

—

Dom wins the fight about driving back to the house by virtue of the sheer fact that he refuses to pull over at all. 

“You must have a medkit in that bunker of yours,” he says reasonably. The shot was high enough on his right shoulder and he doesn’t feel short of breath. It's not like it hit his lungs. “I’ll be fine.” And that’s the end of that, though Brian sulks and then manages to dig out a bottle of painkillers that he shows to Dom. Dom looks at him. "I don't need those."

Brian presses his lips together briefly as his eyes narrow. "You allergic?" Dom shakes his head. "Then if you don't take them I'm going to force us off the road, and _then_ I'll drive." He looks deadly serious. Dom swallows the pills. 

Apparently satisfied, Brian calls Gisele. His expression flattens out as they talk, and if Dom wasn’t concentrating on the drive, and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and worrying about Mia, he might have been concerned. But Brian can handle Gisele.

The drive back is long.

Dom pulls up to the house and Gisele stalks up to them. She’s scanning the street behind them and she’s got a gun too. Of course, Dom thinks fuzzily, the house is practically an armoury. 

“Were you followed?” 

“No,” Brian says. He’s already out of the car, opening Dom’s door and helping him slide out. “Keys, Dom.” Dom obligingly drops them into Brian’s waiting hand. “Okay, into the house.” They start moving.

“Brian,” she says. “We need to move.”

“He’s just been shot, Gisele! He needs medical attention.” 

Dom takes a second to think. It seems to take more effort than normal, but Mia is here. “Mia,” he says to Brian, because she can help.

“Yeah Dom, she’s gonna be fine. I promise.” 

“She was pre-med.” 

Brian brings them to a halt and Dom is glad. His shoulder is really starting to hurt now, and not having to move is very nice.

“Okay,” Brian says. “Gisele, can you grab my bag and the first aid. I’ll get Mia and we’ll meet -“

“In Oceanside, yes.” There’s a pause. “The Supra’s damage is too noticeable. I’m sorry, but you should leave it here.” 

Dom looks at Brian. He looks resigned. 

Gisele’s voice softens. “I’ll get your things, then take it a few blocks over. You can come back for it later.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Brian says, “Thanks,” his voice quiet. 

Dom sees Gisele lean in and kiss his cheek. “Of course. Stay here.” She leaves.

She comes back with Mia. Mia doesn't look happy to see him, which is unfortunate. He's always happy to see her. "Mia," he sings. 

She glares at him and then turns to Brian. "Do you want his or mine?” 

Dom's vaguely aware he's a little out of it, but that seems like a crass thing to say to someone’s… to Dom’s… to Brian. "Mia," he chides, "That's not nice. You know -"

"The cars, Dom." It sounds like her teeth are clenched as she cuts him off. "Do you want the Chevelle or the Acura?”

"The Chevelle. It'll take the weight better."

There's a hand in his pocket and Dom almost flinches away, but it's Brian's hand so he relaxes again. His keys are pulled out. Brian says, "Can you take him? I need to get some things." 

There's a lot of painful movement before Dom is walking again. Dom feels Mia's bag hitting his leg and remembers his duffle in the room. "Mia," he says. This is important. "My bag -"

"I got it, Dom. Behind the door like always." She sounds strained. 

"I love you, Mia," he says because he doesn't say it enough. He'd missed her when he was away. 

"I love you too. Now, get in the car." She opens the door and he gets in. He hears Mia sigh. “What did you give him?” 

While Dom is puzzling that out Brian’s voice replies, “A few Tylenol. He insisted on driving; he said he wasn't allergic."

“He's not, but Dom can get loopy on painkillers. Which is why he almost never takes them willingly.” 

The car rumbles beneath him. 

Mia nudges his thigh and he shifts down the bench seat while she sits next to him. Her hand touches his shoulder and he jerks away. “Dom, I have to see.”

At least her hand is nice and cool, though sometimes she presses too hard.

At some point Dom becomes aware that they’re moving, probably have been for a while. They’re on a highway. 

Mia and Brian are talking quietly around him. Dom lifts his head a little, scans the road. There’s a decent amount of traffic though nothing major. Looks like they’re heading south. 

Something catches his eye in the side mirror and he tenses, looks again. “We’ve got a tail,” he says. 

“Fuck!” Brian hits the steering wheel and Dom fights the urge to reprimand him. That’s Dom’s car he’s hitting. “Can you shoot?”

"No," Mia says, her voice wavering slightly. “No. I never learned.” Dom looks at her and her expression smoothes out, and she looks sure of herself again. “But I can switch out with you.”

Dom keeps his eyes on their tail while they change positions. He has to hand it to Brian and Mia: the car doesn’t swerve at all while they manoeuvre around. 

Dom’s maybe slightly jealous - with his bulk, he’s never been able to try that move. Then again he’s not a crazy person like Brian, who once jumped onto a moving semi without a harness. 

The car behind them accelerates suddenly and Dom calls out, “Incoming!” and tries to brace himself for when Mia floors it. It doesn’t work and Dom grunts with the impact. Brian is halfway out the window again and Mia looks effortless behind the wheel. Then something hits the car, probably more fucking bullets, Dom grouses; Mia stops driving primarily for speed and shifts into defensive movements instead, coming up and around a slow-moving truck and momentarily blocking their pursuers. Brian fires as soon as they come into view again.

The unexpected acceleration pushes Dom’s right side back into the seat, and he must make a sound loud enough for Brian to hear because he’s shouting into the car, “Dom! Are you okay? Talk to me!”

Through the wave of pain Dom grits out, “I’m fucking fine O'Conner, now pay attention to the people shooting at us!”

The pain recedes enough that he can breathe easily again. Christ, what he wouldn’t give for some good old fashioned rage or adrenaline right about now. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel the pain. 

More shots come from behind them and Brian ducks inside again to reload. Dom keeps track of the Ford behind them through the passenger side mirror and glances briefly at Brian, who is staring at him. Dom raises an eyebrow and Brian blinks before he moves to hang out the window once again. What is it with him and windows, Jesus.

Dom checks on Mia; she’s tense but is still in control. Dom wishes he could do something to help, but there isn’t anything aside from watch - 

“Mia,” he says. 

“I see it Dom. Trust me.” And he does, of course he does, but when they’re barrelling down the highway at 120 and coming up fast on a snarl of traffic he’s allowed to be slightly concerned. She turns her head and shouts, "I’m taking the exit!”

And she does. Dom grabs for Brian's legs to help keep him in place as the car abruptly veers across lanes. Brian keeps firing; tires squeal behind them. Dom looks out the rear window. Behind them the Ford crunches as it flips across the concrete.

Mia exhales shakily and swiftly decelerates while Brian slides back into the car.

—

Mia pulls over at one point and she and Brian switch places. She starts to look at Dom's wound but he rests one hand on hers and stops her; her hands are trembling. Residual adrenaline, he’d guess, because she doesn't look terrified. He can wait until her hands are steadier. 

At least the pills have worn off - his mind feels clearer than it did before. And now that they're not being chased and he isn't getting slammed into things, the pain isn't that bad. 

They get to the next safe house without incident. Inside, Mia sets Dom up at the kitchen table and deals with the wound before dressing it. "You were lucky," she says. No broken bones and no internal organs hit, just some torn muscle and a clean bullet lodged in his shoulder. It could be worse.

Once Mia is finished and has gone to clean up Brian pushes off the wall where he's been standing. He walks up to where Dom is sitting on the chair and lightly rests a hand on Dom's good shoulder; leans into him ever so slightly, carefully. 

Dom wraps his arm around Brian's waist and drags him closer, leans his head against Brian's stomach, then closes his eyes. Much better. 

—

"We need to get far enough away first," Gisele says. "The longer we stay here the easier it will be for them to find us and then kill us."

Brian nods, clearly thinking.

They'd still been in the kitchen when Gisele had arrived. Her route had been uneventful but it had taken her longer to get to them. Dom wonders if she took back roads to get here unseen. If she had then it had obviously been the smarter choice. Brian had taken them on the interstate, and although it was faster it had made them easy to spot. 

Now that they had regrouped, Gisele and Brian were looking to enact stage two of their disappearing act: getting out, and getting out alive. 

Dom thinks of the cell phone burning a hole in his pocket and wonders if it was possible to run from the FBI a second time. 

Probably. He’d bet that the four of them could run pretty far. 

Running from a connected drug lord though… that was a different story. At least the government wouldn’t go further than the border. They could easily disappear before anyone knew what had gone down, and at that point they could do what Dom had done: find a good city and lay low. Live out their lives. 

But they only had a chance at that life if they took Braga down first. Dom knew the different kinds of people who lived outside the law, and the guys at the top wouldn’t ever stop.

Dom speaks up for the first time. “If Braga were taken down, there’d be no need to run.” 

Gisele scoffs. “And you expect to what, kill him yourself? Just like that?”

Brian is looking at him, reserving judgement. Dom says, “If we have to. But we don’t have to. I’d guess that he’s on some agency’s watch list. Maybe we just need to introduce him to some new friends.”

Silence. 

Gisele laughs sharply. “You don’t think small, do you.” It’s not a yes but it’s also not a no.

A glance at Mia tells him she’s with him even if she thinks he’s crazy. Dom waits for Brian to say something: he’s clearly working it out.

“I’d rather not have to look over my shoulder for a pissed-off drug lord, if it’s all the same,” Brian says. “What the hell; I’m in.” He turns to Gisele. “It can’t be any worse than what we’ve already been through.”

She smirks and corrects him. “Than what you’ve been through, you mean. Aside from that first encounter at my apartment, I haven’t been found.” 

Brian smiles ruefully. “Guess I’m just lucky,” he says. 

Gisele rolls her eyes. “Very well. Someone must keep you out of trouble, and this one,” she says and looks pointedly at Dom, “only appears to be encouraging your reckless behaviour.” 

Brian’s grin has more than a hint of fondness to it. “You’re plenty encouraging yourself.”

Dom clears his throat and Brian’s grin transforms into a sheepish smile as he looks Dom’s way. _Sorry_ , he mouths, faintly chagrined, and Dom tries not to look at Mia; he can feel the amusement radiating off of her in waves as it is. 

—

After the planning they pull away from each other a little. There are a few hours before they’ve agreed to head out, and Dom uses the time to check his suspicion.

He opens his duffle and pulls out the two phones he’d taken from Brian’s apartment. They don’t power on at first but Dom’s not surprised to find that Brian has a charger in this house that fits. He picks a phone at random and scrolls through the recent call log. Trinh shows up a few times, as does a Chinese restaurant and a pizza place. ‘Work’ appears the most. 

It’s in the other phone that he finds what he’s looking for. Under recent calls there’s one name repeated more than a few times. Dom’s chest tightens as he traces a finger over Letty’s name. 

Letty was Brian’s source. It’s the proof he was missing. His thumb hovers over the call button for a long moment, but in the end he transfers the number into his own cell and turns the burner phones off again. 

It might not even be her number anymore, he tells himself. 

—

Dom tries to get Mia to stay behind and it goes about as well he expects it to, really. Which means that she shouts at him, calls him a hypocrite, furiously insists that she isn’t crying, and that even if she were it would be perfectly understandable. 

Dom had forgotten how the rest of their fights had gone when they were younger, but this is bringing back memories. All the same, Dom consoles himself, it’d be better for her to hate him and be safe than for her to come with him and get hurt. 

Brian walks into the room while Dom’s in the middle of trying to explain that to Mia. Brian stops and attempts to sneak out again, but it’s too late: Mia’s already seen him. 

“Brian, he’s being ridiculous. He can’t keep me locked up in here just because he thinks it’s safe.” She sounds reasonable even with faint tear tracks down her cheeks, which is what Dom was afraid of. 

“Uh,” Brian says eloquently. Mia is waiting for more, and Dom prepares to be gracious in the face of her capitulation to his good sense. Mia glares at him again, clearly recognizing the signs and rapidly working her way back to being incensed. 

But then Brian sighs, looks at Dom and says, “She’s an adult. I know she’s your sister, but Dom - she’s in this now. You wanted her here, and now she’s here. Let her help.”

Mia lifts her chin and says, “Exactly,” and while Dom is still trying to think of something to say in response to that, she kisses Brian’s cheek. “I’m going to go see Gisele,” she calls over her shoulder. The door shuts behind her. 

Dom narrows his eyes at Brian. “She’s the only family I got left.” 

Brian nods distractedly. “Yeah, I get that. She’ll be fine.” He chews his lip. “Listen,” he says and then stops talking. His face screws up; his eyes squeeze shut.

Then, “You gotta be honest with me. It won’t change anything, I swear. Not with what we’re gonna do tonight, not with - with anything else. Just tell me.” He opens his eyes. “Okay?”

Dom can’t speak. He nods instead, slow.

“Earlier. In the car. You called me O'Conner. I don’t - Dom, I don’t have a last name. Not one that's real; not one I know.” He falls silent, expression pleading. 

Forget speaking; Dom can’t breathe. 

“You knew me, didn’t you? Or know of who I was. Dom?”

“Yeah,” he croaks. What else can he say? Brian asked for honesty. “Yeah, Brian, I knew you. But only for a short time; it was complicated.”

He doesn’t know where to go from there. How is he supposed to tell Brian he was a cop looking to bust him for hijacking trucks? And that instead Brian had let him go. That Dom had left him in the dust. 

Brian doesn’t seem to care that Dom’s stopped talking. He’s smiling a little and he bounces on his toes like a kid. “You knew me,” he breathes. He sounds satisfied instead of yearning, and it makes Dom want to reach out for him. Brian doesn't know the rest though, and Dom knows if he lets it slide now the truth will come between them later. “There’s more,” he forces through numb lips.

“I know. Dom, it’s okay - I always knew there was more. But it can wait.”

—

They're sitting next to each other on the bed. Their arms brush occasionally. 

Brian still hasn't reacted in any way that Dom understands, but then again Brian never had. It's one of the reasons Dom had been so intrigued by him in the first place. 

Brian asks questions that Dom doesn't know the answers to at first, which is frustrating for Dom. Brian seems to take it in stride when he asks Dom if he's got any living family and Dom responds that he doesn't know. 

The way Brian doesn't seem to react to that Dom will never understand. Family is everything to Dom; needing to stay away from his own for so long had been beyond rough. For five years the fact that he'd been cut off from Mia, Vince, and Leon had been like moving around with a dislocated shoulder, and that awareness had never gone away. Knowing that he'd walked away from Letty without a word in the middle of the night had been an open wound he'd done his best to ignore.

So Brian asks him what he wore back then, what he liked to eat, if he smoked -

(At that Dom had narrowed his eyes at Brian. "Why. Do you smoke now?"

Brian admitted, "Sometimes I feel the urge. Guess that's the addiction talking.")

\- if he'd been seeing anyone. 

Dom is silent for a long moment trying to decide what to say, and Brian makes it easier for him in the end. 

"I know I wasn't seeing you Dom, or you wouldn't have reacted the way you did to our… courtship,” he decides on. He turns his head and faces Dom. "So?"

"You used to date my sister," Dom says, and he gives into the urge and reaches for Brian, puts a hand lightly on his. Brian's eyes widen. Dom continues, “You dated my sister to get close to me. Because I was hijacking trucks for their merchandise, and you were an undercover cop trying to make a bust."

Brian is silent, lips parted, looking like he's waiting for the punchline and Dom fights the urge to laugh in case it turns uncontrollable. Turns out that Dom himself is the punchline. 

"Like I said, you and me - it was complicated." Dom licks his lips, waits. It doesn't take long. This is Brian after all. He stands up, paces a few steps away and then rounds on Dom. 

"You're telling me I was a cop." His disbelief is cutting.

Dom nods. Yeah, Bri. That's what I'm telling you. And the real kicker is, after you stopped being a cop ‘cause of me you went and became a cop again. Own free will and everything. And you're still on the payroll. 

Aloud, Dom says, "Yeah."

Brian scoffs. "You're full of shit. I'm not a cop."

And Dom is fucking done with this bullshit. Enough is enough. Brian wanted honesty? Brian will get all the honesty he could want from Dom. 

So Dom agrees, cruelly. "Not right now you're not. Technically Brian O'Conner died in a car crash while on duty. More than that, _Special Agent_ Brian O'Conner was killed while working an undercover assignment to bring down Arturo Braga.” 

Brian stares at him, stunned. He puts a hand behind him for balance but there's only air there and he stumbles a bit. Brian looks down at the floor, breathing harshly. 

All the fury runs out of Dom as Brian stands rigid and lost in front of him. This isn't Brian's fault. It isn't even Dom's. Punishing either of them would be pointless. 

He starts to stand but the movement must catch Brian's attention because his head snaps up and his eyes pin Dom in place. He stalks forward and Dom is frozen even when Brian looms over him. 

It's menacing, especially since Dom's seen Brian's weapons stashes and his deadly accuracy. But Dom doesn't feel threatened. Strangely turned on, yes. But not threatened. 

Brian's voice is tightly controlled. "Braga. You're telling me I was after Braga. And here you come, wanting to drive for Braga, pushing me to take Braga down. Trying to convince me I'm, what, FBI? So then tell me, Dom, what's in it for you, huh? You're not a cop. Not even close." He spits out, "What do you get out of all this? What's your angle?!" Brian looks like he could go on but Dom can't take listening to the barely-there hurt in his voice.

He reaches out and rests his palm on Brian's hip, and Brian flinches at the contact but Dom can't make himself move his hand away. He swallows and it tears at his throat. 

"If you still want me after all this, I get you."

Brian doesn't move and Dom can't get more than a shallow breath of air into his lungs. This is it. He doesn't have anything else left to offer. 

He wants to have a family again, to be part of something bigger than himself. He hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he came back to LA and got to be part of his sister's life again; until he'd met Brian again.

His family will always include Mia, Vince and Letty, but what he wants, what he really wants now, is for Brian to choose to stay with him. To see what they could be together when there's nothing in their way. 

He closes his eyes, tries to think of something to say next, and his arm is jostled. He opens his eyes to see Brian moving further into his space, Dom's hand still curled around Brian's hip. His good shoulder is pushed and Dom lands hard on the bed with a grunt. There's a warm weight on his chest and Brian is pushing his tongue into Dom's mouth. With his feet still touching the floor and his right shoulder screaming at him, Dom kisses back. Brian shoves a hand under his shirt and his palm is shockingly hot against Dom's stomach. One hand skims over Dom's scalp before tugging at Dom's head until their mouths are better aligned, and Brian squirms until their bodies fit together while pushing greedily into Dom's mouth again.

It's amazing; Brian’s hands are everywhere and Dom’s mouth is raw, but something still feels off. Dom has never really been one for talking when he could be fucking, but this is a little too much whiplash even for him. Thirty seconds ago Brian was a statue made of stone and now they’re grinding against each other like teenagers? Dom is over thirty for fuck's sake. This hot and cold not talking about what matters is bullshit kid stuff. Dom wants them to do better that that.

As much as it pains him, Dom forces himself to pull away. As far away as he can get while lying flat on his back at any rate. He takes a steadying breath. 

"Don't get me wrong," he says. "I liked it -“ and he pushes his hips up so Brian can feel how he's hard in his jeans "- but what the fuck was that about?"

Brian’s eyes are a little wild. He blinks, then pushes away from Dom and flops onto the bed beside him, panting. When Dom looks over Brian’s got his eyes shut tight. 

Dom stares at the ceiling a little perplexed. Again, what the fuck just happened?

He wants to shake Brian until he starts to make sense, but knowing Brian he'd find some other way to be completely incomprehensible. Would it kill him to say what he's thinking out loud, like a reasonable person?

As if in response to that thought, Brian obliges him. "You've got me," Brian says. He doesn't sound particularly happy about it. "You've had me from the beginning." Dom looks at him again: Brian still has his eyes closed and his expression is blank. 

"But I don't know which me it is you're looking for now. Is it the criminal? The goddamn cop? You said you'd come with me and you have, but now there's all this shit with the FBI and Braga and you convincing me and Gisele to take him out.” He stops, and when he speaks again his voice is lower. "I know I get you hot; I've worked that much out. But beyond that I don't get your play, Dom. How much of this is about getting the mark, and how much of it is me? I just don't know the answers to these questions, Dom. I can’t work you out.”

He doesn't open his eyes, and Dom stares at him in silence for a moment. 

Dom is only guessing here, mind, but he gathers what’s messing with Brian's mind most right now is the not knowing. And seeing as how Brian had just opened up to him Dom figures he can do the same now. 

"We can stay ahead of the FBI," he says. "That ain't a problem. Mia would likely come with us, though I don't know Gisele enough to say what she'd do. But we could outrun the government. And if it was just them, I'd say fuck 'em. Book it to Mexico, keep going until we find a place we like enough to stop. We could have a good life. I'm prepared to do that."

He looks away from Brian’s empty face to stare at the ceiling. "But like I said earlier, Braga won't stop at the border. The shit he's pulled today combined with the files the Feds had me read tell me he's crazy. Smart, too, and it's a bad combination. He'd keep looking for us and ‘jurisdiction’ wouldn't stop him. So yeah, I do think he needs to be taken out now. But if you hadn’t got the call today I don’t know that I would have said anything.” 

Dom runs a hand over his skull; grips hard at the tense muscle at the base of his neck. “I’m not in this for the short term. I’d understand if you are, but I’m not. If what you’re looking for is to get your rocks off I can do that, but you should know it’s more than that for me.”

He closes his eyes and grimaces. “I did a lot of stupid shit when I was younger. For a long time I acted without thinking it through, and it didn't get me anywhere.” Dom thinks of Linder and Lompoc and that distant sense of guilt that’s never quite left him. “I took my girlfriend for granted, slept around while we were together, took stupid risks for the adrenaline rush and the cash.”

The bed creaks; Brian must be moving. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes with you. And I’m not leaving now unless you want me gone.”

It’s the most he’s said to this Brian in one go. It is possibly the most they’ve ever talked about personal shit at all, and Dom is raw.

He hears a quiet sigh and then Brian says, “Arrest a drug lord with the help of the FBI, and then we disappear clean. I’m good with that. “I’ve always wanted to see the world.”

Dom can’t stop the smile that breaks on his face.

—

"So," Brian had said later. "I'm thinking it's gonna be even easier than you said to get the FBI on board."

Dom had chuckled, said, "They're on speed dial," and at Brian's expectant look he'd fished out his phone.

When Bilkins picks up and starts to rip into him Dom cuts him off and drawls, "O'Conner says that even if he doesn't remember it he figures he's owed a lot of hazard pay."

There's silence down the line. Brian grins at him. 

"You got him?" Bilkins finally says, incredulous. 

"Yeah,” Dom replies. "I got him." Brian's grin turns pleased. "And we're gonna bring down Braga, but I'm going to need someone else to help.”

They'd talked about this too: how Bilkins had mentioned some guy named Roman Pearce like he was important. Dom’s never heard of him and Brian obviously hadn’t either, but he’s someone who knew Brian from before the accident. Maybe even from before Dom had met Brian. And they weren't going to find him on their own. 

"Get Roman Pearce out here and we’ll bring Braga in.”

At that Bilkins gets surly. "We tried him first. He said no. He said no emphatically."

Hmm. Dom considers Brian again. "Tell Pearce if he comes out he can have a free shot at punching O'Conner in the face.”

Brian shoots an aggrieved look at Dom, insulted. Dom waves him off.

Bilkins’ voice is amused. "You know, that just might do the trick. He’s in the area and he _is_ impulsive.” The line goes dead and Dom puts the phone down. 

Brian glares at him. "What the hell?"

"You used to piss people off all the time. You probably pissed this guy off at least once; I bet he'd love the idea. And there's no reason you gotta let him connect. I just said he could have a shot."

Brian's glare doesn't lessen. Dom chuckles and braces himself, then drawls, "Don't worry baby, I'll protect you." 

Brian stares at him for three seconds before launching himself at Dom. He’s fucking heavy for a guy his size, and even Dom being ready for it doesn't stop them from falling backwards. Maybe it wasn't one of his better ideas, but it got him this: Brian breathless and play fighting with him, so all in all Dom counts it as a win. 

—

Once they've picked themselves up off the floor and Dom has finally let go of Brian’s shirt and stopped kissing him, Dom goes to get Mia. 

She says, "It's about time," and, "At least things won't be awkward anymore," and, "Wait, you told him we used to - have a thing?" Then she glares at Dom, of all people. Like he’d been the one to bring them together. 

... Well. 

Like he hadn’t tried to put a stop to that whole relationship once upon a time. Sort of. But Brian had been a good guy, and Dom had seen that he would have been good to Mia. And more importantly, Mia had liked him.

Still, Dom doesn’t see how this is his fault. Better to have no secrets going forward. "Yeah," he says. "I told him you used to date."

Brian turns a brilliant grin on her but and Dom sees the underlying uncertainty in it. "I can see why. You're pretty amazing."

She isn't moved. "Don't even try that." When all Brian does is blink at her she relents. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. But I've been charmed by you before. I know what it looks like."

Brian tilts his head and asks, "What happened? Dom didn't say much." Dom had actually told him a decent amount, but he doesn’t say anything. This isn't about him. 

Mia glances away. "It's not important."

"It is to me. I don't remember it."

Mia pales and swallows. Dom watches as she searches his eyes and then heaves a sigh. "I was just a starting point for you to get involved in our lives. You came into our store every day for a week or so, ordering bad food and flirting with me, and after a while I started flirting back. We went out a few times, and then Dom and I found out you were a cop. And that was the end of that."

Brian nods, seemingly taking it in. He says seriously, "Well. I _have_ been told I'm good at pissing people off."

Mia snorts and then immediately looks guilty. 

"It's okay," Brian says. "That was a shitty thing I did to you. I'm sorry."

Mia seems to age right in front of him, her gaze becoming pained and far away, but even as Dom recognizes it she shakes it off, straightening her shoulders and looking Brian in the eye. "Thank you," she says. “It was. But I'm over it." Dom hears the _now_ unspoken at the end. 

They’re silent for a moment before she says, "So who's going to tell Gisele?" She's smiling.

"Uh, I think I will. Alone," Brian adds after a look at Dom. "I don't think she likes you very much."

Dom cocks his head at Brian. "About that. Anything you want to tell me?"

Brian gets what he's really asking, which saves Dom some embarrassment at having to outright ask about his and Gisele’s relationship.

"We're good friends. At times we could be very friendly."

Dom nods. So there was something but it’s not happening now. Okay.

Mia rolls her eyes, clearly exasperated with them both.

"Anyway, she’s going to have to get used to you," Brian says. “And it’s better to tell her about my exciting backstory before we leave. We can talk on the way.” He hesitates a second and then kisses Dom's cheek. The door swings shut on silent hinges as he leaves the room.

Dom raises an eyebrow at Mia's expression, which is a mix of _aww how adorable_ and _eww that's my brother_. "You got something to say?"

Mia laughs at him.

—

They drive back into LA early enough that the horizon is just beginning to lighten. 

Dom and Mia are in the Chevelle and Brian and Gisele are ahead of them in the Porsche. Brian had suggested the plan while Gisele had narrowed her eyes at Dom. 

Dom had wanted to say _What happens if we get separated?_ and _It would be practical to have a sharpshooter in each car_ and a dozen other things, but they all boiled down to a childish _I don't want to be away from you_ and he knew that Brian understood that already. 

So he'd bitten his tongue and let Brian and Gisele have their space, and he and Mia had played Remember When on the drive. It had relaxed Dom, likely the way Mia had intended when she'd started it, as they'd talked about older times. 

"And then he said, 'My shirt is made of boyfriend material' and smirked at me," Mia says. She's wiping tears away as she laughs, and he smiles fondly. 

"He had just read something on how to pick up women," Dom recalls. "And he thought he was gonna do so well." Melancholy washes over him. "Vince never did get that you didn't like him that way."

Mia grows more serious, though she's still wiping away the occasional tear. "I think he really believed that Letty and you and me and him would be one big happy family." She smiles a little. "I think he just wanted it to be official, you know? To be one of us. Family."

"He's my oldest friend. He’s always gonna be family."

Mia sighs at that. "Dom, not everyone has our definition of family. Sometimes people like things to be official."

Dom can't think of anything to say to that, and he and Mia fall silent. 

He and Letty had made things 'official' in Mexico and then he'd cut and run on her. He’d loved her: that was never in question. He still did. And still he’d left their cross on the dresser for her to find.

He'd had reasons. He'd wanted to keep her safe. But he hadn't asked her to come with him, and he’d withdrawn before she could offer. He had survived in Panama City without her for two long years. Dom tries not to think about how when he'd left LA all those years ago he hadn't even tried to get in touch with her for months. He'd made his way to Baja and stayed there, licking his wounds, and one day she'd shown up. Dom had been so happy to see her, to see anyone from the family he'd made and then lost, that he hadn't thought about it too much. 

Maybe things could have been different between them, but they weren't, and Dom had made his choices. If Brian tried to run on him now, Dom wouldn't stop until he found him and made him answer for it. And if Brian seriously wanted him gone, if he didn’t -

\- well, if Brian didn't want him around anymore, then Dom would leave. 

Dom’s phone rings and he’s grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. Bilkins’ name flashes on the display and Dom takes a quick look around him for stray cops before answering. “Yeah.”

Bilkins doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We know you’re on the highway - tell us where you want to meet Pearce.” 

Dom considers his phone for a second; goddamn tracking devices. Maybe Brian had had a point with all those burner phones.

He gives Bilkins the address Brian had told them earlier, then adds, “We’ll be there in 20 minutes. Can he make it?”

The phone is muffled slightly and Dom hears indistinct voices before Bilkins comes back. “He’ll be there," he says, disgruntled. Dom ends the call, then calls Brian.

“Hey.” Brian sounds defensive and Dom looks at the Porsche again, wondering. He updates Brian on Pearce, and then casually asks, “Everything okay?”

There’s silence for a moment. “Yeah. Gisele is just exercising her right to be an overprotective friend. It’s flattering, really,” he says and Dom can practically see the grin Brian’s likely flashing at Gisele. 

Dom hears Gisele say, “Maybe if you were less crazy, I wouldn’t have to be.” He chuckles. 

"But yeah, we're good. 15 minutes to get there, no problem." Quieter, he says, "Let's see what kind of guy he is."

Dom shakes his head. Knowing Brian, Pearce is likely to be as insane as he is.

When they arrive at the meet there's a Challenger parked halfway between street lamps. Dom is opening his door when Brian slides out of the Porsche with his gun drawn, and the figure leaning against the car straightens up with its hands clearly visible. 

"Now I know you're not gonna shoot me," the man says. "Not when y'all are the ones who dragged me out here."

Dom looks him over. "You Pearce?" 

"Who the fuck else would I be? You know anyone else who was told to meet Mr So Called Amnesia over there and your own FBI lapdog self? Didn't think so."

Dom was right: he doesn't like this guy. But Brian is half-smiling and his stance has relaxed slightly. Gisele, thankfully, is clearly unimpressed and Mia is safe on the other side of the car. 

Dom says, carefully, "FBI lapdog?"

Pearce shrugs. "I call 'em like I see 'em. Like you ain't?"

Dom feels the urge to beat this guy's face in, but he restrains himself. 

Brian is calm. "We're doing this and then cutting ties.”

Pearce eyes him skeptically. "Yeah. I've heard that before; you always say that. And then you up and working for the law again." He shakes his head. "But that's not fair. You don't remember that shit. So as much as I'm pissed off - and I got reason to be, Brian! - my beef ain't with you. You start remembering shit, we're gonna have words. Until then, we cool."

"Apparently you pissed people off a lot," Mia says, her voice dry. 

Brian coughs and holsters his gun. "No comment."

"So!" Pearce says, all smiles now. "You actually need me for something, or was this just a great excuse for a reunion?"

Dom speaks up. It takes an effort to sound civil, but he manages it. "You get to be the bait."

Pearce deflates. It's almost comical. "Bait. Brilliant. Bri, you owe me, man."

Dom and Gisele share an unamused look while Mia and Brian laugh. 

—

Gisele had looked Pearce over from head to toe and apparently found him lacking, because she’d turned to Mia and said, “You and I could go in now and leave these three to their posturing.” 

Mia had said yes, clearly pleased at being asked, then moved closer to Dom and hugged him. “See you soon, big brother,” she’d said, and then they’d walked off. 

Once they’re out of sight, Pearce claps his hands together once expectantly. “Alright, which one,” he says, and Dom looks at him curiously but Pearce’s eyes are on Brian.

“What?” 

“Which one, bruh? I know you, you do this every time, every time you go and get into trouble it’s ‘cause of someone with soulful eyes. So: who do I gotta be extra wary of?”

Brian blinks and his gaze darts to Dom before it jumps back to Pearce and his expression goes flat. 

Pearce sighs gustily and shakes his head. “Aw, no. Don’t tell me it’s the dude. Brian, man, don’t tell me it’s the guy! Aw, shit.” He rubs his hand over his face.

Dom’s fist is clenched and he’s about two seconds away from breaking this asshole's nose when Pearce continues, “Why you gotta be so crazy about people, huh? Well I’m watching you, and if you go being extra stupid I’m gonna pull your ass outta the fire straightaway, you hear me?” He’s got his finger pointed at Brian. 

Dom relaxes but Brian narrows his eyes. “You don’t actually know me. You know the guy I used to be.”

Pearce twists his whole face up and makes a show of looking Brian up and down.

“Way I see it, you're the same where it counts.” 

“Don’t make me shoot you.” 

Pearce laughs. “See, man? Exactly the same.”

—

He and Brian get themselves into position while Pearce does… something. He’s loud. That seems to be his calling card. Quite a few people crowd around him, and when one thuggish guy steps up to shove at him Dom sees Brian sight down his gun. Pearce says something that makes a few people laugh, and then they’re all wandering out the other door. One guy slaps Pearce on his back and chortles. 

Dom feels his eyebrows rise, but there’s no doubt it worked: there’s no one left in the room. 

They walk in. Brian checks the computer while Dom scans the room. 

After a moment Brian makes a triumphant noise and Dom looks over. He’s got footage up showing Campos and some older guy sitting in a room drinking and smoking. “Gotcha.” He looks at Dom. “This is live. I’d bet anything that’s Braga. Campos is a dick too, if we get him as well that’d be a nice present for their new friends.” 

Dom looks the question at him. 

“He found me after, yeah. But he hasn’t checked in with us since this all started, and I know he sent those guy to kill us. Braga doesn’t know us like Campos does,” Brian says and Dom feels a shiver run up his spine at the chill in Brian’s voice. 

“Okay,” is all he says. It’s not like he really cares about Campos.

Brian pulls his phone out to update Gisele, and they move out. 

—

In the end it’s anticlimactic. 

They kick the unlocked door down, startling the two men in their chairs, and Brian knocks them both out before Dom’s even gotten the chance to get close. Brian moves fast when he’s motivated. 

Brian’s got the zip-ties out and ready, and before Dom knows it the pair of them are trussed up. 

Dom makes the call and within five minutes the FBI are swarming the place. Bilkins shows up. Dom is leaning against the wall shoulder to shoulder with Brian, who is tense and obviously trying not to show it. Bilkins looks like he wants to say something to Brian but then decides against it. 

“We’ve got them both in custody,” he says to Dom. Dom nods. “In addition to all the financial documents you provided, we also found a neatly stacked pile of all the racketeering, prostitution, and murder evidence we could have hoped for. What an amazing find that was. Looks like more than enough to convince a judge of their guilt. Good work.”

They remain silent. Dom eyes him.

“We’ve got your official pardon at the office. Come by and we’ll have it signed.” Brian shifts enough that Bilkins notices, because he speaks directly to Brian now. “It’s all above board. We have some papers for you to sign too. You can come and make sure if you like.” 

He waits and finally Brian says, “I’m not coming back. I don’t remember that life.”

Bilkins shakes his head. He looks a little fond and not at all surprised. “Resignation paperwork,” he clarifies. He nods his head meaningfully at Dom. “With him and Pearce around I never expected you to.” He grins. It’s the first time Dom’s seen him do that and it’s disquieting. “Though Penning might put up a fight for you. You were a good agent.” 

Dom really doesn’t get this guy, but it doesn’t matter: they’ll be rid of him soon enough. He pushes off the wall. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

—

They’re done quicker than Dom would have expected, knowing what he does about government bureaucracy. They walk into the FBI building, get sat down in Penning’s office, and read through the papers. 

In the chair next to him Brian is strung tight with tension. Dom is comforted by the fact that down on the street their crew is waiting for when things get fucked up and they have to mount a rescue. So far it hasn’t been needed though Brian’s got his cell unlocked, pre-written text message just waiting for his thumb to press down. 

Penning had kept trying to convince Brian to stay like Bilkins had predicted. Brian had stared at him, blank-faced, and eventually Penning had relented. 

Outside the glass walls there’s a never-ending parade of people who look in curiously and then stop to whisper amongst themselves. Dom thinks he spots Trinh at one point, but he can’t be sure. 

When Brian is finally satisfied with the legal documents and they’ve signed everything they need to sign they exit the office together. 

It was Trinh; Dom stops in front of her and Brian looks at him curiously but stops too. Dom tilts his head at her. 

“Thank you,” she says to Dom. He nods in acknowledgement. Then she looks at Brian. “My name is Sophie. You won’t remember me, and that’s okay. I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re alright.” She bites her lip. “Okay. That’s all. I hope you have a good life.” 

She turns to go but Brian says, “Hey, hold up. Sophie? Thanks. That means a lot.” He smiles at her.

She seems uncertain for a second. “Do you have a minute?” she finally asks. Brian looks at Dom and shrugs. “You never really used the desk assigned to you,” she says, ”but sometimes you’d dump stuff in mine. It’s closer to the door.” That doesn’t make sense to Dom, but whatever. “You can take a look, see if you want anything. It’s okay if you don’t.”

Brian considers that. “Wouldn’t hurt to look.” 

They follow her. 

Her desk is tidy, Dom sees. Very neat. 

“There’s not a lot, but it’s in the middle drawer. It sticks sometimes so I tend not to use it. I never got around to clearing it out.” She’s babbling, Dom realizes. This must be weird for her. Dom’s had a decent amount of time to get used to this new Brian, but for her it’s the first time. He can’t fault her for being uncomfortable. 

Brian stands in front of the desk for a few moments, then reaches out. The drawer doesn’t open. Next to Dom Trinh starts forward, presumably to help, but Brian does a weird jiggle of the handle and then hits the corner and it swings open. She’s right, there isn’t a lot. Dom catches sight of what looks like a photo or two in black and white, could be mug shots, and what looks like a novelty key ring. Brian hasn’t moved; he’s still bent over the desk. 

Dom frowns. Before he can get really worried, Brian collects the stuff and shoves it into a pocket, then stands up. He closes the drawer and turns back to them, then hugs Trinh hard and says something to her. She hugs him back. 

Brian doesn’t meet his eyes as they walk to the elevator. His shoulders are stiff. Dom feels the familiar urge to reach for him but the tension strumming though Brian’s back stops him. In the lobby Bilkins is waiting for them, and Dom feels another wave of frustration. Isn’t this supposed to be over? They’re done, Christ, and the exit is so close now. A dozen more feet of this concrete floor and they’re out, and then neither of them will ever have to go through this again.

But Brian stops a few feet away from Bilkins, and so Dom stops with him. Bilkins holds out an envelope and Brian openly assesses him for a moment before taking it. 

“Six months back hazard pay,” Bilkins explains when Brian doesn’t move to open the envelope. “Toretto mentioned it earlier. Plus severance.” 

“You didn’t have to do that. I wouldn’t have held you to it.” 

Bilkins laughs. “You think this is for your benefit? I’m old. I don’t want to have to deal with you again. Every time your name crops up I get pulled back in to clean up. So consider this my unofficial endorsement of you taking your extracurricular activities elsewhere.” He steps to the side, leaving them a clear path to the door.

Brian huffs a laugh. “Thanks. We’ll keep that in mind.” He shoves the envelope into his pocket.

Finally, they leave. Dom takes a deep breath once they’re outside and rolls his shoulders. He could do with sleeping for a week, he’s that tired, but they’ve still got shit to do. He feels a light touch on his arm and turns to Brian; there’s a strange look on his face. 

Brian ducks his head a little and then kisses him. It’s sweet and slow. Dom relaxes into the kiss, rests a hand on Brian’s lower back and pulls him closer. The kiss eventually ends and Dom feels Brian’s nose nudge behind his ear. They hold each other for another minute before Brian pulls away and links their hands together, tugging Dom away from the FBI building and into the sunshine. 

“I hear Rio’s nice this time of year,” Dom offers as he revs the engine. 

“Yeah. But not just yet.” 

Dom feels his stomach clench at how distant Brian sounds, but he swallows his sudden fear and navigates out of the parking lot. Brian is a quiet presence beside him for the rest of the drive.

—

They meet up with the others at yet another safe house. When Dom shows Mia the signed declaration she tackle-hugs him, smiling her brightest smile. 

“I’m so happy,” she whispers into his ear. “This is amazing. Dom, I’m so glad.”

Dom is glad too, and he’d tell her so again, but his attention is caught by Brian staring at Pearce. Pearce tilts his head, clearly confused.

“Rome,” Brian says, strained. 

Mia tenses in his arms. 

Pearce stands up. 

Brian says again, “Rome,” and this time his voice breaks. His hands come up and he gestures helplessly. 

All of a sudden they’re hugging, hard, and Brian is choking out, “I’m so sorry man, I don’t remember it all yet, I just know I messed up, I’m so -“

And Pearce is half-shouting, “You stupid moron, I really am gonna punch you you idiot, why you gotta be so crazy all the time -“ And he hits Brian in the arm but neither one breaks away so they must be okay.

Pearce pushes him away at last and sniffles. “Man, why you gotta mess with my street cred all the time, this shit ain’t cool.” He’s blinking quickly and he hasn’t really let go of Brian. 

“Fuck.” Brian wipes his eyes once more and then shakes himself. “Sorry about that. Some stuff came back to me when I saw you.”

Even though Dom had suspected, the confirmation is like a punch to the kidneys. He’s vaguely aware of Mia detaching herself from his suddenly heavy arms, of Gisele shifting in the corner of his vision, but all he can focus on is Brian. Brian who had kissed him so sweetly earlier, who’d looked so strange just before he’d done it. Who had been absolutely silent on the way over. 

He’s frozen in place until Brian lifts a hand in his direction and pulls fully away from Pearce, says Dom’s name. Brian hasn’t even finished speaking before Dom’s got him in his arms and is holding on tight. Brian clutches back just as hard, which is fucking gratifying, because Dom feels like he could shake out of his skin at any moment. 

“It’s not all there,” Brian murmurs in his ear. “But I remember you.” 

—

The next few days are busy. They had relocated to his and Mia’s house on that first day, and Dom spends some time fixing up the Chevelle. The Supra he leaves alone for now.

Brian spends a lot of time with Pearce as they fill in the gaps of Brian’s memory. He doesn’t have all of it, but Pearce is surprisingly patient with him as they go over their history. Dom can hear them trash-talking each other from all over the house. Other times Dom and Brian sit around and talk, going over everything that happened that they know of. Neither of them mentions telling the FBI that Brian’s regaining some stuff. Dom is pathetically grateful that Brian hasn’t shown any inclination that he wants back in.

Gisele leaves on the second day, telling Brian it’s time she set off. 

“You’ll be okay?” 

Gisele lightly scoffs at Brian, smiling. “I will be fine. You, on the other hand, are a magnet for trouble.” She glances between Dom and Brian. “If you try to take down any more drug organizations, don’t call me.” She pauses. “Unless there is a compelling financial reason. Then you may call.” Brian grins and she kisses both their cheeks before Mia walks her out, their arms linked as they talk.

Dom thinks about the financial evidence that Gisele and Mia had retrieved, then thinks about the other evidence the FBI had found. He goes out into the privacy of the backyard and calls the number that had, months ago, been marked with Letty’s name. It rings for what feels like forever before a generic recording asks him to leave a message. He says, “Thank you,” then can’t think of anything else to say. Finally he clears his throat. “We’re staying at the house for now. You’ll always be welcome.”

He stares at the closed garage door and takes his time going back into the house.

Another day Mia and Brian spend a few hours together alone in her room, and Dom distracts himself by tinkering with the leaky faucet in the downstairs bathroom. He ends up ripping the whole thing out by accident, and then has to slink to the hardware store to buy a replacement. After that he concentrates harder.

They finally emerge and Dom doesn’t bother to hide his relief when they both appear unharmed. Mia is smiling as they hug, and afterwards Brian comes up to him and pats him on the shoulder. “Corona?” Dom nods, and Brian squeezes his shoulder once and then walks away.

Halfway through the beer Dom realizes that Brian hasn’t touched more than his shoulder in days. It’s… alarming.

When he finally caves and asks her, Mia says reasonably, “Maybe he’s waiting for you to do something first.” 

Dom hadn’t considered that. 

He makes a point of putting one hand on Brian’s back that evening and, when Brian leans into it, Dom slides his hand down Brian’s spine. 

The next time Brian passes by him in the hallway Dom feels a hand ghosting down his back. 

Dom chews his lip. So, what, Brian isn’t touching him unless Dom has already done it? That’s not what he wants.

The problem is Dom doesn’t know how to say that without sounding like an idiot. 

He’ll just have to escalate and see how stubborn Brian is.

The answer, Dom is dismayed to learn, is that Brian can be pretty fucking stubborn when he wants to be. Dom had somehow forgotten that.

It’s another two days of careful touches before Dom can bring himself to mention it.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” he says. It makes perfect sense to him but Brian looks confused. Dom tries again. “The whole, you know. The touching.” Dom is frustrated to see the confusion doesn’t go away.

They’re currently sitting on the sofa in the living room. Mia and Pearce left an hour or so ago, and he and Brian have been relaxing in the quiet and speaking when the mood strikes them.

Dom feels foolish now, but there’s no getting out of it. He’s committed. He grits his teeth. “I’m new to this; I’m not prudish.” Brian lifts an eyebrow at him and Dom can’t say it and look Brian in the face, so he shuts his eyes. “You can touch me whenever and wherever. I like it.” He scratches at his face. “I really liked it.”

Silence, and then, “Oh, fuck,” before he’s got Brian in his lap as hot hands push themselves under his shirt. Dom hears himself moan into the kiss. Brian’s lips are blisteringly hot and his hands are fucking everywhere. Dom’s shirt gets rucked up and then he’s lifting his arms so Brian can pull it off him, and Dom finally gets his hands on Brian’s ass and squeezes. 

Brian groans and pushes away, darts in for another kiss, then rears back to strip his own shirt off. One of Dom’s hands lifts to pinch at the pectoral muscle on display and Brian makes a noise. Dom smiles and does it again, then mouths at the tendon on Brian’s neck. He gets a gasp for his effort, and Brian’s hands start to roam again. He’s reaching between them for Dom’s belt when he freezes. 

Dom - doesn’t know what to think. But then Brian shakes his head, pants out, “Not here, fuck, I really must be stupid,” and then he’s up and tugging at Dom’s wrists. Dom stands up, bemused and horny. Brian pulls him in for a kiss, breathes “Race you” into his ear, and then he’s disappearing up the stairs.

Dom looks at the couch, looks at the unlocked front door and the wide open curtains, and climbs the stairs while grinning.

When he gets to his room the door is wide open and Brian is nowhere to be seen. He steps inside and is immediately set upon by Brian, who laughs and says, “I won!”

Dom kisses him for his victory, gets out “And what do you want for your win?” and is pushed onto the bed. Brian stands over him, eyes roving down Dom’s body. 

Dom preens a little.

Brian grins at him. “Stay right there.”

Dom can do that. 

Brian pulls his shoes off and shucks his jeans before crawling on top of him. He’s still in his boxers. “Okay?” he asks.

Dom tugs on the boxers. “You’re a little overdressed.” 

Brian huffs a laugh. “I can work on that.”

Dom manages, “See that you -“ before Brian’s got his hands at Dom’s belt again. Dom’s breathing speeds up. Brian pushes his jeans open and then his hand cups Dom’s cock through his shorts and he gasps. Brian smiles against his mouth and grips him again, then tries to push his shorts down too. They get caught on the jeans and Brian makes an annoyed sound before kissing Dom again, still trying to get his shorts off. Dom starts laughing when Brian’s motions get frantic, and he finally gets some air and gasps “Boots.”

Brian goes still, then his shoulders start to shake with laughter. Dom toes one boot off and then the other, and then he wiggles out of his jeans. Brian sobers and stares down at him, captivated. God, it’s an ego boost. Dom tugs at Brian’s boxers again and Brian absentmindedly strips them off for him before palming Dom’s cock again. It’s good but he doesn’t want to be distracted: Brian is naked and on top of him, fucking hell. Dom runs his hands down Brian’s sides then plants one on Brian’s ass and grips hard. Brian makes a gratifyingly loud noise and Dom pulls down while raising his own hips. It’s - _fuck_. 

He takes a breath and then groans when Brian pushes his shorts down and strokes him. Dom gets a grip on Brian’s cock and jerks roughly, listening for the noises that tell him if he’s doing it right. The angle is awkward, but Brian moans again, pants, “Yes, that, right there,” and that’s very helpful. 

Dom thrusts against Brian’s hand and then thinks, huh, and gets both their cocks in one hand. The next time he thrusts it’s up against the silky heat of Brian’s cock and it’s fucking amazing. 

Brian kisses him, skates a hand down his spine and cups his ass, then slips his tongue into Dom’s mouth again. Dom hears himself growl, of all things, and his hand clenches around them both. Brian pulls away enough to pant, “Stop me if you want,” then - fuck - sticks two fingers into his mouth and reaches between them. Dom watches Brian’s eyes as he feels a finger against his ass, and then he has to close his own and groan at the sensation. Brian stills, waits, and Dom snarls, “Don’t you fucking dare stop,” and Brian kisses him again, all teeth. Dom feels that finger touch him once more and he throws his head back, gasps for air, feels his fist spasm around their cocks and feels pleasure skitter down his spine. 

Brian’s finger slips into him, one knuckle, then two. It’s maddening. Dom licks dry lips, growls, “Stop fucking with me,” and then pushes up into it. Brian’s finger moves deeper and hits - Dom doesn’t even know. Prostate, likely. Whatever it is, it’s good. He can’t hear anything for a second above the roaring in his ears.

Brian makes a pleased sound, then pulls his finger out and thrusts in again. His other hand rests on top of Dom’s own, and he twines their fingers together and jerks them off while - fucking Christ - fingering Dom’s ass. 

That’s it for Dom. His eyes slam shut as his body tenses, and he can still feel Brian’s finger in his ass while he comes. He hears a shout and opens his eyes. On top of him Brian is frantically cursing and he watches Brian come all over their fingers and Dom’s stomach. Fucking gorgeous.

He tilts his head enough to kiss Brian, then breathes deep and twinges a bit when Brian reluctantly pulls out of him. Aside from the slight muscle ache Dom is flying pretty fucking high. It’s that same feeling of doing 140 on the highway, but he’s a got a panting and shaking Brian on top of him instead of a purring engine. 

It’s far better than any car. 

Dom threads his fingers into Brian’s short hair, kisses him slowly, deeply, feeling Brian above him, and smiles. 

A guy could get used to this.


End file.
